Thunderbolt over Burma
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: An epic WW II fic with the adult children of G&F and a bold US pilot who romances Caroline Challenger in India. Has a king cobra, a thrilling tiger hunt, palace intrigue with a potent maharajah and a knighthood for one hero. Includes M&R.


"Thunderbolt Over Burma"

By Explorer

This story contains violence (military combat), moderate sex, and possible profanity, and is rated MATURE. Characters and situations are fictitious, or are used fictitiously, and no resemblance to any person other than historical figures is intended. (Certain historical figures are used in a fictitious context.) Some places are also used fictitiously. "Blackpool" was real, commanded with distinction in the face of great odds by Brevet Brig. John Masters, D.S.O. The Distinguished Service Order is second only to the Victoria Cross as a reward for British military gallantry; Masters's conduct must have been very impressive!}

Certain characters are from the television series, "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World", and others are their adult children. I do not own rights to this show, and the mating of these characters was not portrayed on that program. Arthur and Caroline Challenger are my own creations. Lord and Lady Roxton and George and Finn Challenger are from the show, although neither couple was married when the TV episodes ended. However, fans were told to expect two couplings, had the (cancelled) fourth season been filmed. Racial and cultural expressions used are those of the times and do not reflect the modern attitudes of the author or any other party. This is a long story, and I've edited it and broken it into chapters to make it easy to find your place if you can't read it all in one sitting, which is likely. It's more of a novelette than a short story. I hope that you'll like it.

_This story is dedicated to Dr. Mathilde Egyed, who enjoyed it, and who made an accompanying video seen on You Tube as, "Thunderbolt."_

**September, 1944, Over Burma**

Tom Howard looked across the hundred feet of sky separating him from his wingman, and saw Frank Stevens look back. Stevens shrugged: he had had no sight of the enemy, either. Yet, they must be close...

Fifteen minutes before, the two P-47D Thunderbolts had been patrolling 190 miles NE of their base in eastern India, mainly getting in hours to draw their flight pay for the month. The Japs hadn't sent many planes their way for awhile, and those that had come had been engaged by RAF Spitfire MK VIII's before they were in range of the U.S. Army Air Corps base from which Howard and Stevens flew. The only action that Howard had seen since arriving two months before had been escorting B-25 Mitchell medium bombers to their ground targets and home on a few occasions. There had been no aerial opposition, the enemy not being as strong a presence as they had in previous days. At one time, they had menaced India, and Allied forces had been lucky to retreat with no more losses than the terrible ones that they had suffered when the Japs came into Burma after the fall of Singapore. Now, the momentum was swinging the other way, and the chance for an air kill was fairly rare.

Howard had transferred to Burma after almost four years of fighting Germans, first as an American volunteer in the RAF, then transferring to the USAAF after America entered the war and got fighter units to Britain in 1942. He had had to bail out after his P-47, the earlier version called a razorback, had taken heavy hits from the cannon on an FW-190 that was attacking a formation of B-17's over Alsace, en route home after bombing a ball-bearing factory in Germany. Howard had been assisted by French underground agents, and been recovered by a Lysander one dark night, after fighting for three weeks as a guerilla with the French.

On returning to Britain, he had been reminded that he could no longer fly over France, lest he be shot down and be forced to reveal his French connections to the Nazis. The D-Day invasion had been over a month away, and no one much below Eisenhower's staff had realized how close it was. Howard had been offered an instructor's job in the States, or taking this assignment to Burma. Wanting to see more action and possibly ring up additional kills before the war was over, he had chosen to see scenic Burma. Promoted to Major, he was now the executive officer of a fighter wing operating a mix of Thunderbolts and Mustangs. Eventually, there would be all Mustangs, but the newer planes were in short supply, with most still being designated for service in Europe or to escort B-29's over the Japanese home islands, where their great range was much appreciated.

Howard had taken off that morning in his usual mount, a P-47D with the new "bubble" canopy inspired by the one on the British Hawker Tempest, and now being fitted also to recent P-51 Mustangs. It gave a terrific view compared to the older "razorback" P-47, but lowering the fuselage to fit the big, clear canopy had created a degree of turbulence that came into play as speed dropped for landing and on takeoff. One had to pay more attention at these times, lest the plane yaw abruptly, but he was used to it, and loved the better view in the improved cockpit. His plane bore the painted-on name of Texas Ranger, beside the replica of a badge of that famous law enforcement outfit. His wingman was from New England, and had designated his own fighter as Yankee Clipper, with a painting of a tall tea ship on the cowling. Both planes were basically the natural silver without camouflage paint, save that they had a broad strip of olive drab in front of the canopy, to prevent reflections off of the bright aluminum. The ends of the cowls were painted yellow, as were the tips of the black propellers.

They had been cruising at 18,000 feet, looking for targets of opportunity, when the radio had crackled with an order to go to Channel Two and speak to the controller from RAF Station Rammalabad, codenamed Ancestor after Air Commodore Charles Redgrave had been notified last month that his daughter had turned him into a grandfather. Redgrave, senior RAF officer in the area, hadn't been content to hand out cigars and buy a round of drinks in the officers' club, so they had a new codename to remember...

Howard had switched frequencies and hailed the controller: "Hello, Ancestor, this is Ranger One. You rang for us?"

"Hallo, Ranger One, this is Ancestor. Yes, indeed, we have some trade for you about 40 miles to your SE port, a formation of bogies that we think are enemy. Radar paints some 25 aircraft, and they aren't ours or yours. We have directed a returning flight of Beaufighters and their Spitfire escorts to close with them, but our chaps are getting low on fuel and ammunition; they have already hit their target and are returning to base. I'm sure they'd fancy some help if you'd like to lend a hand." He gave coordinates.

"Ranger One acknowledging. Turning toward target. Thanks for the work, Ancestor. Things were pretty boring up here until now."

"Ranger One, roger, and good hunting. I say, you lot do know what Beaufighters and Spits look like, don't you? Can't have you popping off at our lads..."

"Roger, Ancestor; I used to fly Spits. I'm one of The Few," Howard assured the controller, and signaled across to Stevens to follow him as he turned sharply to port (left) and followed the directions given.

Now, the two big American fighters held 300 miles per hour, scanning the sky, glad they were above the clouds, stalking their prey. Stevens, who had exceptional eyesight, even for a pilot, spotted the quarry first. "Ranger One, I see bogies at ten o'clock, angels 15, moving toward Blackpool." Blackpool was a British base and the Jap bombers were probably after it, or the supply base on the river below Blackpool.

"Roger, Ranger Two, I see them. Let's head that way." Howard turned the stick, and the flight of two moved toward probable action.

Howard was first to discern the outlines of the Betty bombers and the accompanying fighters. One plane shifted slightly, and he could make out the Rising Sun emblem on its starboard wing.

"Tallyho, Ranger Flight," he called. "Ancestor, where are your aircraft? We have confirmed bandits in sight, 20- plus. Bettys with a mix of Oscar and Tony escorts." He gave his position.

"Ranger One, Ancestor. We anticipate our elements arriving in one to two minutes. Will you wait, or attack now? Those people are getting awfully close to the supply depot for Blackpool..."

"Roger, Ancestor. We'll attack now. We'll make a firing pass on the bombers and get out for a second run, hopefully without getting hit. Tell your men to hurry. We're good pilots, but the odds are pretty high here."

Ancestor signaled accord, and Howard spoke to his wingman.

"Frank, let's swing in fast as Hell and see if we can drop a bomber each before they catch on that we're here. If the fighters try to corner us, dive hard and disengage and meet me at angels 18 about a mile to their rear. Drop your auxiliary fuel tanks now. Got all that?"

Stevens replied that he had. Then, "Lay on MacDuff, and damned be him who first cries, 'hold, enough'!"

Howard, who had also read Shakespeare and whose favorite play was either, "MacBeth" or, "Julius Caesar" (he could never decide) laughed and said, "Roger, attacking now. Give 'em Hell, Frank."

He reached for the throttle, and the powerful Pratt & Whitney 2800 radial engine roared as he increased power and began a shallow dive into the formation of enemy aircraft. He flicked off the safety to the guns and blessed the punch the eight .50 caliber Brownings gave. He silently prayed, "Lo, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, Thou art with me. Lord of Hosts, Lord of Battles, grant me thy grace that I may triumph over these odds and do thy will unto these heathen foe." The irony that the enemy probably didn't consider themselves heathen by their standards didn't cross his mind. The things that they had done at Pearl Harbor, at the Rape of Nanking, on the trail of tears after the fall of Bataan and Singapore, left him in no doubt that the men he was about to kill were heathen, by his standards. He pushed the stick forward, diving fast now, hoping to get in a few bursts from his guns before the agile Jap fighters reacted.

A thousand yards...get in close, damn, you, Howard, he thought. Make this first burst count...

The Japanese fighter leader saw the Thunderbolts as they closed to within five hundred yards. Their noses were pointing dead-on at his flight, or he would surely have seen them sooner. He called a break, and his element of Tonys, the Kawasaki Ki-61 Hien, to give them their official name instead of the Allied recognition code, broke right and tried to turn into the Americans. The slower Oscars moved forward to better shield the Betty naval bombers.

Howard howled past the turning Tonys and found an Oscar Ki-43 Hayabusa in his gun sight. He pressed the trigger and the eight Browning .50's roared and shook the plane. The awesome firepower stretched out to the Oscar, raking it from the left wing root forward to the engine cowling. The lightly built enemy fighter shuddered and burst into flames as Howard quit firing and pulled up the P-47's nose to avoid the doomed foe.

The Oscar spun out and began a flat spin, the pilot probably dead. Howard drilled past another Oscar and aimed at the fuselage of the nearest bomber. They sometimes called the Betty the Flying Cigar, for the shape of its fuselage. A cigar with wings, one that had no armor and fuel tanks that weren't self sealing, and were very vulnerable to machine gun or aerial cannon fire.

He saw the gunner send a spray of tracer bullets his way, and several pinged into his mount. Then, he drew a bead and squeezed the trigger again. The tail gunner on his quarry convulsed and fell backward in a shower of his own blood. A second burst from the P-47 hammered the rudder and the horizontal stabilizers, and the Jap pilot tried to pull up. This just exposed the back of the plane to another burst from the eight .50's, which had a gruesome blow at this range, under 150 yards and closing. Howard walked the stream of tracers and armor-piercing incendiaries along the Betty, swinging wildly to port as the first flames from the forward fuel tanks blossomed and the Betty bucked in his sights.

He heard Stevens yelling into his radio headset. "Ranger One, break left, harder! There's an Oscar on your tail!"

He glanced back and saw the nimble Ki-43 swing in tightly, tracking him, and dual columns of tracer from the nose guns leaped out toward him.

He was immediately involved in a deadly dogfight, and dived, something that a Thunderbolt could do better than any other plane in the world. But there was a mountain range thrusting up below, and he realized that he hadn't room to lose his attacker. Howard instead pulled up and executed a three-dimensional roll, something that the P-47's finely harmonized controls allowed in spite of its size and power. He had no hope of turning with a German fighter, let alone the still more aerobatic Japanese models, but that complex roll often astonished the enemy, and could substitute for inability to turn tightly, per se.

The roll brought him screaming down right into the face of the enemy pilot, who looked frightened out of his wits, which he had cause to be! Both pilots had time to fire a short burst at one another, and Howard felt the 12.7mm bullets thud into his engine and one skewed off the propeller, marking a shiny path across the spinning blades. Another cracked the top of his canopy. Then, the Oscar tried to turn, but neither pilot had room to evade. The fighters collided, and Howard felt a nasty jolt as the lighter "Jap job" slammed into his starboard wing.

He pulled up and looked around, seeing the Oscar spinning out of control, its port wing completely gone. The Thunderbolt was still flying and Howard turned toward a Betty, whose dorsal gunner was sending fire his way. He steadied the P-47 and slammed a three second burst into the side of the bomber, then swerved to avoid a second collision.

He got down out of the melee as he heard the RAF fighters joining in, and took stock of his situation. The damaged wing had a deep dent, with scraping of the finish across the whole wing, and the aileron was partly impaired, although it worked if he applied force. His engine was overheating, probably pierced by enemy fire, and Howard knew that it would be suicidal to rejoin the fray. He turned slowly, trying to see Stevens.

What he saw instead was a Tony detach itself and come down after him.  
>"I think I'm about to have a very bad day," he muttered, yelling for Stevens to help if he could see them.<p>

"Break left, Yank, and dive, if you can," came over the radio. The accent was the patrician tones of an upper class Englishman.

Howard complied, as best he could, telling whoever had called that he was in a bad way. The Thunderbolt was tough, but even it had limits...

The Tony turned effortlessly and Howard saw the pilot open up, flashes coming from both nose and wing guns. The Ki-61 was essentially a Jap revision of the basic Messerschmitt 109, using a copy of its BMW fuel-injected engine. It wasn't quite as quick to turn as the famed Zero or the Oscar, but it was certainly more maneuverable than the big US fighter, even if Howard's plane hadn't been damaged. As was, he had no hope of evasion. He thought for an instant of turning on his tormentor and risking a second collision.

Then, he saw the Tony yaw and veer off, smoke coming from the engine. Flashes sprang out along its side and along the underside of the wings as the Tony rolled and showed its belly.

A Spitfire flashed past, and then turned, watching the Tony to be certain that it was out of the fight. The British pilot wanted to avoid firing any more than he had to, having used half his ammunition in strafing a ground target after his Beaufighter twin-engined fighter-bombers had worked it over. Satisfied that the Jap was indeed out of the fight, Group Capt. Arthur Challenger, DFC, OBE, etc. called over to his American counterpart, asking how airworthy his Thunderbolt was.

"Come take a look at me, if you will," answered Howard. "I think I'm hit fairly badly, and an Oscar flew right into my starboard wing."

"Righto, I saw that. Very stimulating to watch, I must say," came the response. Challenger brought his Spitfire alongside the P-47, dipping below to better see the damage, then looking hard at the fluid leaking from the abused engine.

"You're for it, Yank," he said somberly. "You probably have a minute or so to decide whether to see if your parachute was packed right or elect to crash land. You're losing oil, badly, and your engine is starting to glow. Get out, now! We have troops in the area below. Try to stay clear of the Japs, and look for them!"

He pulled off to give Howard room to bail out, and saw the damaged canopy open. Howard spoke a last time into his microphone before disconnecting it and unbuckling his harness. "Hey, Spitfire man! See if you can find my wingman and tell him what happened to me!" He heard a promise to do so, and then ripped off the microphone, pulled the canopy open, turned the big Thunderbolt on its back and dropped into space.

Challenger saw the parachute open several thousand feet below him, and swung his nose up. He could fight another minute or so, and then low fuel would compel him to break and run for home. A few more short bursts, and both his cannon and his .303 machineguns would run dry, too.

He glanced up and saw a Beaufighter make a run on a Betty bomber, its quartet of 20mm cannon and the six .303's in the wings flashing. The Betty erupted in flames, and then exploded, and Challenger swung his nose hard to starboard to avoid the burning debris. He silently wished the American pilot luck. He would need a full ration of that: the jungle below held not only enemy troops, but a profusion of other dangers from cobras to tigers and leopards and wild elephants.

CHAPTER TWO

Two thousand feet above the green tops of the trees, Howard tried to steer his parachute toward a small clearing. He had no desire to have the 'chute become entangled in the tree tops, swinging him helplessly until he starved or a Jap soldier saw him and gave him a bullet to end his despair.

"That's two P-47's I've lost now for Uncle Sam," he thought. "but I've given better than I've taken. I made my 23rd kill today. I just hope this wasn't the last one." He braced for impact as his feet neared the ground, thankfully beyond the trees.

Howard saw the ground reaching up to him, put his ankles together, and remembered to roll as he hit the surface, his landing being cushioned somewhat by the tall grass.

He rolled, got his parachute under control in the mild breeze, and discarded it under some nearby foliage, where the Japanese would hopefully have trouble finding it. A rotting log helped to conceal it.

Taking a leafy bough that he found on the ground, he brushed out his tracks as best he could, and went into the jungle to take stock of his situation.

He examined the contents of his clothing and gear, wishing that he had had a way to carry a pack in the 'plane, but bulk and the need to not snag anything as one bailed out had precluded that. In future generations, that need would be addressed by a special seat pack that fit below the parachute. For him, that was, "pie in the sky, by-and-by"...

He had a Smith & Wesson .45 revolver (a privately purchased version of the M-1917 Army model) and a box of fifty cartridges, plus the six in the gun and the 12 rounds in pouches on his webbing belt. He also had a Beretta M-34 pistol in the official Italian-issued holster that he had bartered from a Scottish soldier who had captured it in Tunisia. After confirming that its "9mm Corto" cartridges were the same as the American .380 ACP, he had bought a box of Remington ammunition for it while on leave in the States, and had the gun and its spare magazine loaded with that. The extra magazine fit in a pocket sewn on the front of the dull green Italian holster, but he had only the 16 shots in this gun and the spare "clip". It reposed in a pocket of his flight jacket.

He wore a Remington RH-36 knife with a six-inch blade and a leather handle capped with a metal pommel, and had a whetstone to keep it sharp. In his right pants pocket was a Case brand Boy Scout utility pocketknife, and he had a full canteen on the belt. He had matches, the waterproof sort, a silk map of the region, gold coins, a candle, water purification tablets, fishing hooks, a few other useful bits and pieces of kit that might let him survive in the jungle long enough to be rescued. He had a good compass. Perhaps best of all, he had the attitude that he was going to come through this, heck or high water.

Howard moved off the area where he had landed, trying to step on rocks and hard spots of ground until he was some distance away from the parachute. Unless the Japs or local villagers they impressed had dogs, he might well evade them, if they didn't find him quickly. He doubted that many of them could track well. Unlike the Germans, whose forces included many hunters trained to track, even some professional _jaegers _and gamekeepers, the Japanese had no hunting cultural background to speak of, and this should work to his advantage. Did they have Boy Scouts? He laughed as soon as the thought struck him. He would have trouble imagining a nationality less suited to the Scout code or to Western principles.

He had gone barely a mile of tortuous travel in the ferns and undergrowth that covered the ground when he heard someone or something moving ahead of him, to his left. Howard immediately went to ground under a big fern that should break up his outline and shade him. A large tree might act as cover if he was fired on, too. He drew the Smith & Wesson and tried to breathe as silently as possible.

The noise paused, as if someone was listening, then continued. The steps turned in his direction, and his heart almost stopped beating!

His finger tightened on the trigger, and he prepared to sell his life as dearly as he could. He had no intention of being captured alive by the Japanese, who were known for such fun as using prisoners for bayonet practice.

There was a sudden bark and a thrashing of hooves as a muntjac (barking deer) exploded from the jungle before him. It had probably caught his scent in the shifting air currents, and panicked. Howard hoped that no tiger or Jap listening had heard its alarm call.

He had decided that it was safe to proceed, and was getting up when he heard another sound of stealthy approach. This time, he knew in his gut that the noise was made by humans. He had no more than thought this, when he heard muffled speech. He had been found!

Keeping as silent as he could, Howard parted the fern slightly, and saw a column of men passing by some 25 feet away. They looked around carefully, but not down at the ground, and he was well covered by the foliage.

He realized with a start that although the men were Oriental, they didn't look Japanese, and the few words that passed between them didn't sound like Jap talk. Then, he realized with a start that their green uniforms and equipment were British!

Just as his mind registered this, a white officer walked up to talk to the man leading the column. They parlayed in the odd language, and Howard was wondering how to introduce himself without getting shot from surprise, when he heard motion at his rear, and a voice called, "Huzoor, Sahib!" There was a man standing there, Lee-Enfield rifle held ready, although not pointed quite at him...

He called out to the white man, who was walking over, Sten gun ready. He helped Howard crawl out from his refuge, and introduced himself: Lt. John Hammond, of The Duke of York's Own XIVth Ghurka Rifles. (Regiment used fictionally, if a real unit.)

Howard explained his plight, and the platoon of Ghurka (Nepalese mercenary) troops and their two British officers took him in tow, giving him some bully beef and crackers. He had been rescued!

The platoon completed its patrol and joined a company sweeping the area near the approaches to the supply dump servicing Blackpool. Howard was soon taken on a boat to the supply center. He was welcomed in the officers' mess, and two days later, was picked up by a Lysander that landed on the airstrip used to deliver supplies by the much larger Dakotas, the British name for the American C-47 transport aircraft. C-47's carried everything from mules to rice to paratroopers.

The Lysander took Howard to the RAF base called Ancestor, where he was assigned quarters and invited to the mess for dinner. His host would be Group Captain Challenger, the pilot who had shot the Tony off his tail! Small world, thought Howard...

An orderly, called a "batman", arrived to launder his uniform and he was loaned RAF clothing while this was done.

At seven that evening, he arrived at the door of the mess, as instructed. An Indian doorman looked at him dubiously, and told him that, "pistol should be left in quarters, and dress uniform required for dinner, Sahib. You meeting British officer host here, yes, perhaps?"

"It's all right, Gupta," said a voice from within, and an RAF officer stepped forward and asked if he was Maj. Howard. When told that this was so, the man said, "Right, Gupta, this fellow is the OC's guest tonight. Will you follow me, Sir? I'm Flying Officer Graham, by the way." He offered his hand, which Howard shook.

Graham led the way to a table with two other officers, one wearing the stripes of a Group Captain on his jacket. He also wore the ribbon for the Distinguished Flying Cross. Howard happily noted the three ladies present. He had not seen attractive white women in months, and tried not to stare.

Challenger introduced himself, Squadron Leader Phillip Smythe, and the women. One was Lady Diana Hamilton, an elegant brunette with a twinkle in her eye and a smile that melted Howard's heart. The other two, both blonde, were introduced as refugees from the Netherlands East Indies. The taller was Astrid van Rijn, the other, Kirstin Mulder.

Howard apologized for his appearance, and explained his flying uniform. "I wasn't expecting to be here tonight, but several Japs shot the bejabbers out of my P-47, and I had to bail out and impose on these gentlemen for their hospitality. Had I known that you ladies would be here, I'd have tried to get shot down sooner!"

Everyone laughed politely, and Lady Diana shot him a speculative look, as if she was wondering how much he was being gallant and how much of his compliment was pure "BS". He felt certain that Lady Diana was skilled in detecting insincere men...

"Right, " said Challenger, "who's drinking what?" He summoned a club steward and ordered a whisky and water. The others placed their requests, with Howard agreeing with Challenger's choice, specifying Dewar's scotch. He noticed that Lady Diana ordered gin and tonic. He decided to notice a lot about Lady Diana. Of course, with his luck, she was probably married to the Viceroy, or something, but Howard was at an age when a man's hope sprang eternal...

"Have you heard anything about my wingman, Lt. Stevens?" asked Howard of his host.

"Yes," said Challenger. "Actually, I talked to him on the radio, and told him your fate, and he said that he'd notify your base, which we have also done. But Stevens's plane was shot up rather badly, and his radio was destroyed, just after I talked to him. He did land safely, although wounded. I'm told that he's in the base hospital, and expected to recover, but that his Thunderbolt is a loss, not worth repairing.

"The good news," he continued, "is that Stevens shot down a Betty and an Oscar, which we confirmed, and you are confirmed with two Oscars, including the one whose wing your plane tore off, and one and a half Betty bombers. Moreover, in view of your courage and the outstanding airmanship that you demonstrated, the Air Commodore has recommended you for our Distinguished Flying Cross (he touched the ribbon on his breast) and suggested to your own commander that you be considered for the US version of this medal. Stevens will almost surely get an Air Medal, at least. He also had a rugged time of things, and is lucky to be alive. You two fellows showed a lot of pluck in attacking that big formation."

"Why didn't I get credited with both Bettys I hit?" asked Howard. "That last one took a three-second burst from eight .50 caliber guns, and I saw his left wing and engine brew up before I turned."

Both RAF officers looked a bit embarrassed, and Challenger explained, "Well, a Beaufghter was also firing at that plane, and he undoubtedly finished it off. I saw it; his claim is valid. I don't doubt that it would have exploded within a few more seconds, or just gone down in flames. As is, the diplomatic answer was to split that kill between you. We did. The Beaufighter pilot has never before scored in the air, and this means a lot to him. Do you mind very much?"

Howard said that he didn't object, given the explanation, and asked that his congratulations be passed to the other pilot sharing the kill.

Someone came to the door and gestured to Challenger. "Excuse me just a sec, will you, all? I'd better see what this is about."

When he had gone, and everyone was wondering who should speak next, Howard asked, as politely as possible, how long Challenger had been in the RAF. "He seems very competent and certainly has some nice awards, but isn't he pretty young to be a Group Captain? That's the equivalent of an American lieutenant colonel!"

"Yes", said Smythe, " he is rather young for the rest of us to refer to him as The Old Man, but he passed out of RAF Cranwell with honors, and has been flying fighters since. He's been in this war since '40, and casualties in some squadrons being what they were, especially during the Battle of Britain, he got promoted sooner than usual, even for wartime. His parents are very distinguished, of course, and his mother has raised quite a lot of money for the war effort, selling her jungle adventure books and devoting some of the profits of their films to the RAF. She also tours on speaking engagements, raising more funds. I suspect that being the son of Baron and Baroness Challenger hasn't hurt his career any, but the OC is a man who has real merit on his own. They say he's quite probably a genius, by the way, like his father."

Howard was impressed. "I think I've read about his parents, then. Isn't his father a big-time inventor or something? And both parents write about their lives exploring remote jungles?"

"Yes, that's them: George and Nicole Challenger. Her friends call her Finn, and that's how she autographs some of her books. Her maiden name was Finnegan, I think, and she uses it as a nickname. His father was created a baron in the 1930's, to honor his inventions. Very distinguished gentleman; I've met him. His mum is more outgoing, much younger, and quite funny when she wants. She has her lecture audiences in stitches half the time, and her books are really something. She's the big game hunter of the two, her husband being more involved in studying local flora and fauna. She was to come here to raise money in India, but her husband is 78 now, and didn't feel up to the trip, so she stayed home with him. But Arthur's sister is coming, and that may what the chap at the door wanted. Her plane may have come in. I say, would you like another of those? I'll just wave the steward over." He gestured at Howard's glass.

Howard declined another drink until he'd eaten, but asked for tea. This had just arrived,when a rustle of movement in the hall outside attracted their attention.

Then, Challenger led in a procession that caused all to rise, the men standing to attention. Not only was there a very attractive blonde girl, probably Challenger's sister, but the Air Commodore was there, and also an Air Vice-Marshal, the equivalent of a Major- General in the Army.

"Stand at ease, everyone," instructed the senior visitor. "Challenger, introduce me to your mess mates and these other guests, if you will."

Challenger introduced everyone, it developing that Air Vice Marshal Sir John Thomas was the Air Attaché to the Viceroy himself, out from his offices in New Delhi. One of the entourage was an Indian, a Flight Lieutenant with wings on his breast and the ribbons for two Air Medals. This man was the eldest son of the Maharajah of Rammalapur, whose impressive palace was just four miles distant from the base, and where the ladies stayed when not helping at the base hospital. His name was Ranjit Singh, and his father, the Maharajah, was one of the most powerful native rulers in the Raj, who was known to have the ear of the Viceroy, and personal connections even to the Royal family, having been knighted by the King-Emperor, George VI, himself. He was a valuable ally, to be coddled, and now his son was here in the mess. Howard, as well as the British officers, understood the importance of making a good impression on the son, who at least, was a fellow pilot.

As for Caroline Challenger, she stole his breath. The girl was young- he knew from talking with his new friends that she was 19- but she seemed more mature. Serene, regal, self assured, she was Quality with a capital "Q", and clearly knew it. But she also seemed open and candid, with little pretense. She deferred to the senior officers and the Crown Prince of Rammalapur, but it was for her brother that she reserved her fondest looks. Clearly, the two were close, and seemed to share a special bond that many siblings did not. Howard was very taken with her, and it must have showed, for he noticed Lady Diana looking at him with amusement and a little jealousy. He hastily offered his hand to the officers, apologizing for his appearance and explaining that he had been shot down, and didn't have his dress uniforms with him.

Sir John looked him up and down and mumbled something to the effect that, "we are all subject to Fate", and asked how long Howard would be staying at Ancestor base.

Challenger stepped in, deftly deflecting further displeasure on the Air Vice-Marshal's part by announcing that the American would be leaving in two days' time when the supply Dakota touched down. It was a USAAF C-47, and could return Howard to his base.

Dinner was announced, and Challenger led the way to a long table in the main room of the mess, where Howard found himself seated next to Caroline, and almost across from Lady Diana. Arthur Challenger sat to his sister's left, near the head of the table, where Sir John had been invited to preside, although as Officer Commanding of the base, Group Captain Challenger would normally have occupied that seat. The Air Commodore sat to Sir John's right, then the Crown Prince, although Challenger outranked him, militarily.

Wine was brought, a Chateau Latour of excellent vintage for red, and Le Montrachet for those preferring white wine. After learning that a fish course would be followed by chicken, Howard opted for a glass of each. When he saw the elegant preparation of the dishes, the Texan was impressed. Clearly, Challenger had known that VIP's were coming, or he was very fond of his sister. Howard had seldom seen so fine a meal since the war began.

Dinner was as scrumptious as it was elegant, and Howard ate heartily. But he was careful to listen to both Caroline Challenger and to the Hamilton woman, and spoke to each when he could think of anything worth saying.

Caroline asked how he had come to be shot down, and he told her, stressing the importance of her brother's contribution in saving his life from the Tony whose pilot had him in his sights.

"You mean that you and Lt. Stevens attacked over 20 Japanese planes on your own?", Caroline exclaimed.

He modestly admitted that this was true, and he had her attention as he explained why he and his wingman thought they had the proverbial snowball's chance in Hell of surviving. It had largely to do with the Thunderbolt's speed, diving ability, the heavy firepower, and their raw audacity.

"I expect that your, ah, audacity, comes in handy in fighting those Comanches that you have back in Texas, eh?" teased Caroline. "I see them in the movies, you know. I'm sure the movies are accurate, aren't they? What's your horse's name? Don't all cowboys have horses? Do you really live on a ranch?"

Howard told her that he did indeed have a ranch; his family owned two, running cattle on one. The other was mainly for hunting, fishing, and nature study, and was his pride and joy. "Most of the family money today is really in oil, though," he admitted.

"Are you awfully rich, then?" Lady Diana wanted to know. "That black, smelly stuff must sell for rather a lot, especially with the war on."

"Yes, " he admitted. "The family is very well off, which is how I was able to attend university in Britain, which is what I was doing when the war broke out. But my brother is the main businessman, with our parents. I plan to teach paleontology at a Dallas university and manage my private investments. One of the things I look forward to is getting back on my ranch and helping to excavate a dinosaur skeleton that we discovered there in 1940."

This prompted an outburst of questions, and he explained that the skeleton was that of a Trachodon, a duck-billed Cretaceous species, and then as soon as he could, shifted the conversation to the Challengers and their illustrious parents.

Caroline explained that she was selling autographed copies of their books, to one of which she and Arthur had each contributed a chapter. The funds raised would go to buying new aircraft and for charity work among RAF families who had lost their men in battle.

After a time, Sir John broke in to ask if Caroline would sell some of the books and attend tea at the Maharajah's palace the next afternoon. She could show her mother's films of wild animals and her famous hunts. The Maharajah had especially requested her presence and that of her brother.

Ranjit Singh interceded enthusiastically. "My father will be pleased to provide you with full facilities for this, and you will be welcome at a tiger hunt on Friday, if you will honor us with your presence. You, too, of course, Group Captain."

It was decided that the events would be a delight for the Challenger siblings, and Challenger asked Smythe to stand in for him while he was at the palace and hunting.

That settled, talk turned to the war and to what might lie after, with the issue of Indian independence looming so large in everyone's minds.

"I fear greatly for our future if Britain leaves this area and such people as Gandhi and this man Nehru come to power, " said Ranjit Singh. He explained to Howard that a central government elected by those common people who supported independence would probably abolish the separate states and other holdings of the Maharajahs, and institute a socialist government run by themselves. "In time," he prophesied, "an independent India might well break ways with our traditional alliances, and even pose a threat to the West. My father and I are greviously concerned."

And, so it went, Howard taking all this in, while slipping in what he could to Caroline and Arthur Challenger. He noted that the young Group Captain seemed very sophisticated for a man of his years, and that his senior officers were often impressed with what he had to say. Howard made careful note of this. In fact, he was impressed, himself. So was Astrid van Rijn, whom Challenger seemed to know rather well, Howard noticed...

Conversation then drifted, as always, to discussion of planes and tactics, and Howard found himself invited to test fly a Spitfire in the morning. Well, he thought: this has been a productive evening. First I get the best meal that I've had in months, with high-ranking, exotic company, now I also get to fly a MK. VIII! I must be doing something right, or the Lord is taking pity on little old me. He returned to his visitor's quarters' room feeling very good, indeed.

CHAPTER THREE

Many miles away, Rear Admiral Shinji Yamahiro was also having a nice evening. The weather was calm, and submarines sent ahead to scout his route reported no Allied warships in his path. He took a last look at the stars with his binocular, and then scanned the sea on all sides. He saw nothing, save the cruisers and destroyers shielding his two aircraft carriers. One of the destroyers was returning at flank speed from investigating a possible British submarine that had proven to be a false sonar signal. The bow frothed white as it sliced through the sea, and Yamahiro thought that the sight was both dramatic and beautiful.

"Sir, all is ready. You should get some rest before dawn," said his aide, Lt. Commander Fuchida, a distant relative of the officer who had led the Pearl Harbor attack.

"Very well, Fuchida," the admiral conceded. "I shall be in my cabin. Have me roused when we enter the Bay of Bengal. We will conduct officers' call in the wardroom at six, with my address to the fleet. I expect that all planes flying in this operation will be ready to depart by 0700 hours. (Seven AM.)" And he headed for his cabin and a fleeting, much needed nap.

Tom Howard rose early, called his base to confirm his transport on the incoming C-47 the next day, and caught up on gossip in the squadron. He then had breakfast, which involved real eggs, from jungle fowl that were kept by the cook in a wire enclosure. These were a delicacy to an American who had been served powdered eggs in his own mess hall, far too often. The war's food and fuel shortages were one of its worst aspects for the average soldier...

After eating with the members of the officers' mess, he was taken out to the flight line in a Jeep. He was shown to a Spitfire MK. VIII, and updated on the changes in the controls since he had flown earlier Marks. Then he got in and waited while Challenger and Ranjit Singh entered their fighters. Singh normally flew Beaufighters, but was also rated for single engine fighters, and wanted to refresh his skills in one. As a dignitary, his request was readily granted, and he was joining Challenger and Howard in an early morning patrol east of the base.

Howard started the powerful Rolls-Royce Merlin engine and idled it as he ran a check of the control panel, then strapped into his seat. When Challenger signaled to do so, he closed the canopy and they taxied out to the takeoff point, a ground crewman riding on the left wing of each Spitfire. He directed the pilot, who couldn't see over the long nose until he got up enough speed to lift the tail and have a level view. (Of course, the man on the wing dismounted as soon as the plane was lined up to taxi for takeoff.)

Now ready, the Spitfires revved their engines and the tower signaled, "Finn Flight, you are cleared for takeoff. Good hunting, Skipper."

Challenger acknowledged, and then they accelerated down the runway. Howard had seen Challenger's craft up close earlier, and knew that the pilot had named it, "Finn's Fancy", after his explorer mother. This name was painted on the nose, as his Thunderbolt had carried the Texas Ranger label. The Group Captain had sentimentally told the tower to designate this element as Finn Flight, and so they were now known, for the duration of the mission. A simple patrol...

Howard felt the controls respond and raised his landing gear as he cleared the packed dirt runway. The Spitfire felt like a thing alive, compared to his big American Thunderbolt. It was even faster and more maneuverable than the older examples that he had flown from the Battle Of Britain through early 1943. It would turn on the proverbial dime, making it a deadly foe for German fighters that could sometimes out climb or out dive it, although the margin was now slim between this splendid machine and a Focke-Wulf 190. It still couldn't outmaneuver the best Jap fighters at low speeds, but above about 275 miles per hour, he had a good chance of doing so. If it came to an all-out speed contest, the Japanese fighters, other than the new Kawanishi "Frank", would seldom make much over 360 miles per hour. The MK. VIII Spit would exceed 400 miles an hour! Of course, his P-47 would do even better, and was more rugged, but harder to turn. He felt that in the Spit, he was driving a sports car, compared to the truck feel of the P-47!

Challenger took them on a wide sweep of the jungle to the east, and Howard hoped that the Crown Prince was enjoying the flight as much as he was. From 12,000 feet (Angels 12), they had a good view of the terrain, and enough height to clear any local hills. They could also see either air or ground targets well.

Standing out some 60 miles to sea, Rear Admiral Yamahiro consulted his meteorology officer, getting the latest weather report. All was well.

He checked his watch. Six-forty AM. He nodded to the captain of the aircraft carrier that was his flagship, and that officer commanded, "Turn into the wind. Pilots will start their engines."

"Hai!" said the helmsman, and gave the order to turn. Lamps flashed the signal to the fleet, and the ships began a gradual forty degree turn to bring their bows in line with the wind...and the land, for they were now aimed at the coast of Burma, not far from the Indian border.

The dive bombers went off first, from both carriers. Sixty Vals, climbing to 14,000 feet. Then, the faster Zero escorts left the decks, climbing to 18,000 feet, hopefully above any British or American fighters they might encounter. In this theater of war, really high altitude missions, as found over Europe, were rare.

"Have you consulted with our Army colleagues?" asked the admiral of his air boss.

"Yes, Sir. The code signal confirmed that all 75 Army planes were brought forward from their Thai bases to Burma, and they are inbound toward target. Our fliers should see them soon."

The admiral smiled, and accepted tea from his orderly. He sat down and examined his sword as an enlisted man trained in sword polishing brought it in. Yamahiro took care to avoid the fine old blade rusting at sea, and treasured this heirloom weapon, handed down in his family for three centuries. As he fondled it, sipping his green tea, he reflected on how different weapons had become since this sword had ridden astride a horse, wielded by a samurai warrior. Now, the Emperor's legions went to war in great ships and launched many aircraft. But death was still too often the outcome, and victory a prize grasped only through skill, cunning, and luck.

Yamahiro wondered who would have the most luck this day, him or Admiral Lord Mountbatten, his ultimate rival. Time would soon reveal that secret.

CHAPTER FOUR

Challenger led his three-plane flight over some ruins of ancient temples, and Howard marveled at the strange civilization in this part of the world.

They had been aloft only some 20 minutes when the tower at the RAF base came on the air.

"Finn Flight, this is Ancestor. Urgent message: radar has detected large numbers of unknown aircraft, probably bandits, well past the Burmese coast and headed this way. Formations are of forty- plus in one case, and another formation of nearly 100. Request that you identify, and be aware that we have ordered a full strength scramble. We anticipate that your American guest's base is also responding. Look out for their aircraft. " The speaker gave range and bearing, suggesting a climb to angels 20 before intercepting.

"Roger, Ancestor. Finn Flight will investigate," Challenger's tone was clipped, businesslike. All three pilots knew that they might be flying into a hornets' nest, and that each breath from now on might be their final one.

"Finn 2, do you feel confident in proceeding? The plane doing well by you? Finn 3?"

Told by both Howard and Singh that they were ready for whatever came, Challenger led the trio of Spitfires in search of the bogies. They began with a steep climb that thrilled Howard as the trim craft clawed for altitude.

They found the enemy some 50 miles from their own headquarters, and rapidly decided to break up the formation, causing as much confusion as they could until more British or American fighters arrived. Challenger quickly outlined a plan whereby he and Howard, as wingmen, would strike at the rear flight of the Japanese, with Singh trailing a half mile behind, to cover their tails.

With no more to say, Challenger called, "Hallo, Ancestor! Confirm bandits, forty-plus. Val dive bombers, and Zeke fighters. This is a naval effort on their part. Attacking now. Rush help to us. Even I need assistance, sometimes!"

"Roger, Skipper. All available aircraft are inbound to your location. Good hunting! Ancestor out."

"Right, everyone," Challenger spoke to his flight. "They sent plenty for each of us. Don't anyone feel greedy if you shoot down all that you can. Tallyho! Follow me! It's our guts on the ground or glory, lads!" And he dived steeply, aligning his gunsight on a Zero-Sen (code name Zeke) fighter. In his peripheral vision, he saw Howard on his right, keeping pace.

Within a minute, they would be in the nastiest dogfight of their lives, and those lives would be forever altered by the outcome of this desperate battle

Petty Officer Mitsuo Ozawa was leading the rear element of the Japanese fighter cover. He was scanning the sky as usual, watching his rear, too, always vital in a combat zone. He saw specks that materialized into two fighter planes coming down in a shallow dive, almost as if attacking. He could now see that they didn't have radial engines, as did most of his nation's planes, but thought that they were probably Ki-61 Hiens (Allied codename Tony) from the Army air units sent to join them and to strike mainly just to the east. Maybe they had been sent to guide the Navy planes to their targets, for the Army fliers were more familiar with the area. Still he should have been told...He felt irritation at this lapse more than fear, for it was inconceivable that just two Allied pilots would attack this large force.

It wasn't until he saw the flashes coming from the wings of the planes and saw tracer bullets zip past and than ping into his fuselage that the awful truth dawned on him. He could now see the shapes better, and the shooting confirmed his shocked realization: "Spitfires!" he shouted into his radio. It was the final thing he said in this life, for a 20mm cannon shell entered his cockpit, exploding on the dash, sending splinters of steel into him even before several .303 machine gun bullets arrived to finish killing him. His Zero snapped out and went into an unrecoverable spin. He was Arthur Challenger's 24th kill...

Flying hard on Challenger's wing, Howard pressed the firing button and saw his tracers and armor-piercing incendiary bullets raking the fighter ahead and to the right of Ozawa's. It, too, broke formation, rolling and going down trailing a thick plume of smoke. It caught the attention of the formation leader and several of his shipmates, and their radios rang with Japanese chatter as they realized that enemy fighters were among them, and had already killed two fellow pilots.

There was an instant, violent melee, with confusion in the Japanese ranks, compounded by the unreliable radios in some of their aircraft.  
>But there was no doubt that the Spitfires and the men who flew them were hunted, with fierce determination.<p>

A Zero got on Howard's tail, and the pilot stuck to him through several evasive maneuvers. Desperate, the American made the tightest right turn he could manage, then, as the Jap pilot followed, he dropped his flaps and swung in an even tighter arc.

The Zero skidded out of control, unable to turn that closely. Had he realized what Howard was about to do and had he been one of Japan's top pilots who had given the Zero its formidable reputation, he would have been prepared, and could have probably made a tighter turn, resulting in the Texan's parents getting one of those dreaded messages from the War Department that begins, "We deeply regret to inform you that...". No American family ever wants to receive one of those telegrams.

As Howard recovered and raised his flaps, he saw the errant Zero come under the guns of Ranjit Singh, who had now closed the gap between him and the Anglo pilots in his flight. The Zero blew up, scattering flaming fuel and wreckage across the sky. Singh's Spitfire was hit by some, but he flew though the fireball and emerged ready for battle.

Howard saw Challenger on the tail of one Zero, with two others on his own rear.

"Singh, kill that man on Challenger's left; I'll get the other," radioed Howard, pushing the stick around to loop his plane and come down in firing position as he passed the unfortunate Japanese fighter that he had designated as his target.

"Righto, Major, I mean Finn Two. I shall blast him to smithereens! This plane flies like a dream. Surely, we shall score many victories today!" His laughter that followed took Challenger and Howard aback, and they hoped that Singh was only experiencing the emotional "high" of battle and not having a breakdown. Still, both Anglo pilots felt a similar elation as each pressed trigger on their own targets, sending them down as smoking, reeling wrecks. Only one parachute blossomed.

The Jap fighter commander saw what was happening, and ordered several of his best pilots to engage the Spitfires and the remainder of his large flight closed up to better cover the dive bombers.

One very skilled Jap pilot saw Singh's plane. He was a veteran of the war in China since 1938, and had dueled American Navy Wildcats and Hellcats and Army P-39's and P-40's over Guadalcanal and New Guinea. He had also downed several Corsairs, but was unfamiliar with the Spitfire and the Royal Navy variant, the Seafire. He knew their reputation, and realized the MK VIII was faster than he was, and could dive better. He would try to lure Singh into aerobatics below 300 MPH if he could. First, he'd try a dive from 1,000 feet above and see if that worked.

It did, and Singh felt the clatter of 13.2mm machinegun bullets and 20mm cannon shells on his plane. He turned sideways, exposing his fuselage, but minimizing the wide target that his fuel-laden wings offered. If the petrol or ammunition in those wings exploded, he would never sit on his father's throne, and he knew it...

The Jap pursued him into a dive. The enemy plane was an A6M5, the latest Zero in combat, and the skin had been beefed up to withstand higher speed dives, to at least 350 MPH, some 50 MPH beyond what the early versions would take before risking structural damage. The light weight that gave them such astounding maneuverability and long range was a design minus when strength and diving speed were factored in. Both the Crown Prince and the Japanese pilot knew that the Zero had to catch the Spitfire quickly, before Singh's dive outdistanced his pursuer. Singh swung slightly right, a maneuver that placed additional strain on the Zero's wings, but was too late, and again felt and heard the rattle of bullets striking his plane. He warped to port, feeling two 20mm cannon shells blow off his left aileron. He had trouble holding the Spitfire steady, and another burst from the Jap plane might be all that was needed to end the dogfight.

Howard saw what was happening, and swung his Spitfire after the Zero, firing all guns as his sights came to bear. The Zero was raked from engine to rudder, and smoke billowed from the engine. Howard started a starboard turn, accelerating as the Zero's fuel tanks blew, and flew through a fireball as the plane came violently apart. Something struck his port wing and rocked the Spitfire. He swore, words that were wholly unfit for mixed company, but this situation was far from the dinner party of the night before!

Howard saw Singh steer away and heard him call out his damage and ask permission to return to base. Howard saw that his own port wing was dented, but the Spit seemed airworthy. Whether his port guns would work was a good question to which a Zero would soon demand an answer!

He looked around for Challenger, and saw him with four Zeros trying to box him in, and went to his aid.

One Jap pilot saw Howard coming, and flipped his plane over to meet the Spitfire head-on. He was a fraction late, and several cannon shells impacted his propeller and some bullets reached his engine and the right wing root. He flinched off, and Howard didn't pursue, opting to tackle another enemy hard on Challenger's tail. He put a quick burst into it, and saw it rock, then his port cannon jammed. The .303 guns still worked, but the heavier recoil from the starboard guns made marksmanship shakier than usual. Still, he hit the Jap's canopy, which disintegrated, and the pilot was blown clear of the plane as two cannon shells exploded under his seat. Another threat downed!

Correcting to fly wing with his British friend, Howard saw him wave and salute. At that moment, another fighter flashed across his vision and Howard almost sprayed it before he recognized the shape of a Mustang! The P-51B must be from either his own base or the Air Commando Wing operating in support of British ground forces. Reinforcements were arriving!

He called out to Challenger to be careful of his targets, and that officer replied that he had also seen the Mustang, and that others were coming down from above. The Anglo pilots located Singh, and followed him out of the melee, Challenger ordering Singh to return to base if he could still fly well enough.

Singh said that his lateral stability was impaired, and it became apparent that his rudder had also been chewed by enemy fire. But he was willing to risk flying home and trying to land the damaged fighter safely. Bailing out here would subject him to the jungle dangers that Howard had avoided by being rescued so quickly. Here, there was no infantry support below, and it might be weeks before he could walk out to safety. Japs and cobras might get him first.

Challenger and Howard swung back into the fray, and were soon embroiled in nasty dogfights that left both planes repeatedly holed, but downed three more Zeros before Challenger heard radio calls that made it clear that the fighter elements from his base had arrived.

Further up, two Vals and another Zero twirled out of the sky, trailing smoke. A Spitfire joined them, but the British pilot opened the canopy and rolled the plane, and his parachute soon showed. A Zero saw and headed down to shoot the man hanging below it. This distasteful act was common in this theater of war, less so when fighting the more chivalrous Germans. But it could happen anywhere that men fought for control of the air. A Beaufighter pilot after the Vals saw, and eased over and blasted the Zero with the force of the four 20mm cannon in its nose, and the threat vanished in a swirl of black smoke and orange flame

Challenger and Howard each got another kill, then Howard damaged another Zero as his guns ran dry. He called out his status to Challenger, who was also now low on ammunition. The Englishman contacted the RAF formation leader and described his situation. The other man, probably Smythe, said, "Roger, Skipper, get home and reload and refuel. The Yanks are here now, too, and we seem to be breaking this lot up. I don't think they'll linger for long."

Challenger and Howard swung clear and found Singh, who was making barely 200MPH, favoring his lame mount. Challenger's plane was also so badly damaged that it shuddered above 300MPH. Howard's was the only fit Spitfire of the three, and his port guns were jammed and the starboard set empty! As they left the scene of the violent, swirling battle, five Zeros saw them leave and chased them.

Challenger looped carefully and fired a short burst that caught one Zero in a wing, and the enemy pilot panicked and swerved. Howard dived at another that was closing on Challenger, and this Zero also broke off and left. Howard made several passes at other Zeros as they approached, and they also broke off and ran. Probably new pilots who were afraid to tackle the skilled Spitfire ace, who seemed able to destroy them. Another had gained on Challenger when he saw Howard closing on him and he, too, broke and ran.

"I say, old man," called Challenger, "I thought you said that you were out of ammo!"

"Hell, I AM!," responded Howard. "But they didn't know it, thank God! Sir, can we vacate the premises now? I don't think I can keep getting away with this stuff with dry guns."

"Righto," the Englishman answered. "Follow me. I'm almost out of ammo, too, and this plane is shaking like a Masai dancer. Howard, I owe you a drink when the dust settles. You bailed me out three times today, and I'll make sure that your commander knows about it. I'll see you get some sort of gong (medal for gallantry) for this, if I have to make it a British one."

"Thanks, Group Captain. You did pretty well, yourself. Finn Three, are you still coming along okay?"

Singh said that he was having trouble, but that base wasn't too far, and that if the Japs didn't bomb it first, he thought he could land.

And so, the three damaged Spitfires struggled to reach Ancestor base. But before they left the battle, they had seen a total of 12 enemy fighters and one dive bomber fall beneath their guns. It might not be a record for three pilots in one engagement, but it was very fine work, and they knew pride with the relief and anxiety that filled them. Now, if only they could land safely...was their runway even still there, or was it pockmarked so badly with Japanese bombs as to be useless?

"Hallo, Ancestor?" called Challenger as they approached base. "This is Finn One. Can you give me landing instructions? How's our runway?"

"Finn One, Ancestor. Skipper, we've got a pockmarked runway. Looks like my sister when she had acne! Sir, can you divert please to the Maharajah's private runway? We're diverting traffic there for the moment. The ground crews are working like mad to get the holes filled in, and I think we'll be back in service here in about four hours. But now? We took maybe 20 to 25 bombs, and they did us no good. Buildings are mostly intact, but they went for the runways in earnest. Bloody Nips!"

Challenger acknowledged and called Finn Three, who assured them that his father's palace had ample runway length for modern fighters to land. They were soon on approach there, Control having alerted the palace through Ancestor's telephone link.

Singh landed first, babying the stricken Spitfire, aware of the narrow undercarriage that made landing trickier than with aircraft with wider-spaced wheels. He had flown Hawker Hurricanes before switching to Beaufighters, and he missed the Hurri's wonderful, wide landing gear now...

He touched ground, but his starboard tire collapsed, and he went into a skid. The plane swerved off the runway, and slammed into a tall tree. A Jeep at once started up and ran to rescue the royal pilot, heir to the Tiger Throne of Rammalapur.

The other Spitfires circled until their companion was pulled from the cockpit and the Jeep had withdrawn. Then, Challenger, whose fuel was lowest, made the next approach. He saw a Thunderbolt II (the RAF- issued P-47D) and a Mosquito fighter-bomber, parked off to the side of the runway. Some Allied aircraft had already sought this haven.

Challenger landed safely, and taxied over toward the Mosquito. He called for Howard to land, and told him that the earth on the runway was solid, with no grass or pits to endanger landing.

Howard lined up his Spitfire and was soon safely on the ground. He taxied over toward Challenger, and parked his plane alongside the daring Englishman's.

Everyone was gathered around Singh, who was receiving a transfusion from Lady Diana and an Indian nurse. He lay on a cot, some of his uniform cut away, and his Webley revolver's gun belt held by an aide. His turban was askew, and Lady Diana gently unwound and removed it as they talked. Another aide rushed up with orange juice and water on a tray. Howard noticed the parachute lying beside the cot, and was glad that Singh hadn't had to use it, especially while wounded.

It developed that Ranjit Singh had suffered bullet wounds in both legs and shell fragments had raked his ribs. The bleeding was heavy, but now being stopped. He moaned, but was coherent and made his report to Challenger. He remembered to thank Howard profusely: "Major, had it not been for your courage and self sacrifice, I should not be alive now, contemplating these lovely women assisting me, oh so much! Lady Diana, I have no stomach wound. Please to give a glass of that juice here; I will be drinking it with much pleasure! Sir, I am deeply shamed to have had my aircraft so damaged by the monkeys from the East!"

Challenger told him not to worry, that they had all been struck by enemy fire, and that he was grateful that Singh had survived.

"Flight Lieutenant Singh, I saw how you behaved in battle, even after being wounded, and I will leave no stone unturned to see that you receive the Distinguished Flying Cross or the DSO for your conduct today. Your father will be proud, and so will all your squadron mates. You were a tiger in the air, and I salute you."

At that moment, the Maharajah himself and the Air Commodore and Sir John drove up in the native ruler's Rolls-Royce.

They saw to Singh being removed to a quiet room in the palace and the royal physician being sent to attend him. Then, the Maharajah turned to the officers, who had been receiving Challenger's report.

"Gentlemen, I have overheard your conversation. Group Captain; Major Howard: I have only the highest praise for you, and I thank you for the life of my eldest son, the heir to my throne. We listened on Sir John's radio to the conversation between you in the skies today, and I insist that you officers attend dinner with me tonight. I will see that you receive the highest award of my realm, the Tiger Star, and I think I can say with certainty that both British and American medals will be coming your way as well. Sir John, am I not correct? You have the ear of the Viceroy himself. Will he not hear of this gallantry? My word, Major Howard attacked several times without ammunition! Can there be greater courage? Thanks to him, Group Captain Challenger and the Crown Prince still live! I shall give thanks to Krishna this very night. You must also thank your Christian God. This has been an extraordinary event, has it not?"

Everyone thanked the Maharajah, and agreed that it was a fortuitous thing that all three pilots had survived, and that their forces had driven off the Japanese air flotilla with minimal loss to Allied aircraft and to their bases.

Sir John announced that additional Thunderbolt II's and Mosquitoes from the RAF base codenamed Hotspur were seeking the Japanese fleet in the Bay of Bengal. The Royal Navy had been alerted, and had sent a task force and two submarines after the enemy fleet.

It was as they gathered their parachutes and other gear and entered the Jeep and the Rolls-Royce that Caroline Challenger stepped from behind the Mosquito and took her brother by one hand and Tom Howard by the other. "You two ride with me in the second Jeep," she commanded. "I have some things to say to both of you."

Arthur looked sheepish, but told Howard that they had better do as she said. "Caroline has much of Mum in her. It's best to keep her happy, the brazen wench."

Howard grinned, and followed them to the Jeep, getting into the back seat with Caroline. He noticed that her eyes were shining and that she had been crying, but she beamed with pride at her brother and when she looked at Howard, she actually blushed as he studied her features.

CHAPTER FIVE

Fifty miles at sea, Rear Admiral Yamahiro watched as the last of his aircraft landed. "That is the last plane, Sir", noted Fuchida.

"What are our final losses?" demanded the admiral.

Fuchida checked his score sheet. "Admiral, we launched 68 planes in all, from both carriers. Just 27 have returned, and several crews are wounded. It is possible that some aircraft cannot be repaired. We have not yet received a loss report from the Army air units supporting us, but they are known to have also suffered heavy casualties. But we badly damaged two RAF bases and the American base on our target list. That base may be inoperative for weeks. The English bases were less badly struck, but will be down for days. We also struck the supply depot below their base called Blackpool. The extent of damage is unknown, but heavy."

Yamahiro thought. "Fuchida, all pilots not needing to go to the infirmary will report to me at once in the wardroom. I want details. We will have to apologize to the high command for these heavy losses. I want to know anything that may help our case. In the meantime, the fleet will turn on the coordinates that we discussed, and proceed at flank speed. The Royal Navy and land based Allied warplanes will soon arrive. I do not wish further losses. Warn the destroyers to be especially alert for British submarines. That is all for now."

"Sir!" Fuchida came to attention as the admiral and his staff left for the wardroom, and then turned to the helmsman. "You heard the admiral. Signal for the turn and get underway at speed. The watch will be very alert for enemy air or surface craft." Then, he. too, went to the meeting.

A sailor watching with huge binoculars from a cruiser to port of the aircraft carriers was the first to see what was coming. A swarm of aircraft headed out from the Burma coast turned toward the fleet, and he sounded the alarm. It was among his final acts. Five minutes later, a Mosquito strafed his ship, and 20mm cannon hammered him and several of his shipmates into oblivion.

The attack intensified, as American Thunderbolts carrying 250 and 500 pound bombs arrived, escorted by P-51 Mustangs. When the Mustang pilots saw that there was no enemy fighter opposition, they also strafed and bombed the Japanese fleet, oblivious to the heavy anti-aircraft fire pouring aloft from every vessel.

As if this was not enough, a quintet of B-25 Mitchell medium bombers arrived, their bomb bays stuffed with 500 pounders with additional bombs hung under the wings. These were late models, B-25J's, and had been fitted with four .50 caliber machineguns in the forward fuselage, as well as the nose guns, handled by the bombardier when he wasn't at his more critical task of sighting the bomb drops. One B-25 was even fitted with a solid nose containing a 75mm cannon! Another solid-nosed example carried 12 .50 caliber machineguns. It was a devastating strafing machine.

An hour later, the remnants of the Japanese fleet steamed for Malaya. They had left behind one carrier, a cruiser, three destroyers, and most of their pride. The attacking force had lost 14 aircraft, but the victory had been theirs, given the relative losses. Several downed aircrews had been rescued by naval forces. None of the Japanese survived to be captured. A few committed hara-kiri, and sharks and the sea took the others, for their vessels had been sunk quickly, with heavy explosions causing horrendous damage. The land-based B-25's all carried heavier payloads than did naval bombers, and the Thunderbolts, many being flown by men who had honed their skills earlier in Italy, had been used as dive bombers, being faster than naval equivalents and carrying much the same bomb load. These big fighter bombers had been lethal, dropping their bombs, then strafing with their eight .50 caliber guns, and escaping at speeds unknown in naval fighters, save pfor erhaps the F-4U Corsair. The Japanese gunners had had a very difficult time following them in their sights.

Yamahiro's carrier had survived, with heavy damage. It remained seaworthy, and continued to be his flagship. He met on the bridge with his staff and ordered that the decks be repaired as promptly as possible, and was told that this was underway, but could take several days.

"Admiral," said one officer, "we have suffered devastating blows, and cannot launch aircraft until we reach port facilities, perhaps in Japan. The deck is ruined. I have ordered that refueling and rearming the aircraft cease, for they will become an additional hazard if we are attacked again. Our other carrier was lost largely because the attackers set ablaze the refueling equipment and the planes on deck. The bombs there also exploded, and the situation was hopeless, as bad as at Midway, when the Yankees caught some of our carriers with their planes down."

"Do not speak to me of Midway, Yamaguchi; I have had too bad a day to want to recall that disaster," rapped Yamahiro. "Helm, set course for Singapore, and use evasive tactics. There will be ships pursuing us, and we must evade until night falls."

His fleet sailed on, but Yamahiro's heart was heavy.

CHAPTER SIX

Caroline Challenger took her brother and Howard aside as soon as they reached Rammalapur Palace and berated each of them for taking foolish chances, then told them how enormously proud she was and that she would convey the story of their daring to their parents.

She told Tom that she wanted to speak to him later, and he saw Arthur's eyebrows rise in surprise and a little concern. What was his sister thinking now? She did seem attracted to this American, and Challenger admitted to himself that Howard impressed him better than had some of Caroline's other suitors, if that is what Howard turned out to be. If so, and he was serious, Challenger would have to think about matters. An American brother-in-law was a concept that he hadn't previously considered. But Howard had said that his family was well off. Perhaps he and Caroline could visit Britain a couple or three times a year, and it wouldn't be so bad. And the Challengers were actually wealthy, so return visits would be easy, although his father was too elderly to travel often now.

He put the issue into the back of his mind as the dignitaries surrounded them, and the party moved into a grand room for dinner at a European style table. Nonetheless, the decorations were partially Indian, and Howard was impressed by the skins of tiger and water buffalo, and tall carved tigers at each corner of the room. He felt as if he had stepped onto a movie set. All of this couldn't be real.

He asked Caroline if he might sit next to her, and was told that that would be "lovely". He noticed that the Air Commodore, Sir John Thomas, and Challenger were all looking at him, and decided that he had better not seem too eager. But he wanted very much to know this energetic, beautiful English girl better.

Sir John commented that he had just sent a message to Howard's commander telling him that Howard was safe, and was detained at the palace because of ruined runways at both bases, and that he was viewed as a hero, congratulating the USAAF on having a pilot of this caliber. The Maharajah had added his thanks for Howard's having saved his son, and the Texan was glad that his absence was being accounted for. But he knew that he had better get to a telephone and check in with Col. Townsend soon.

"Howard, you may be with us for a few more days", said Challenger. "While you and Caroline were talking, I checked with Ancestor, and two of our bulldozers were knocked out by the raid. It may be three days or so before we can land aircraft as large as a Dakota, so you won't be leaving tomorrow, after all. The supply plane can't get in. Fortunately, we aren't critically short of anything."

"What about a Lysander or a US light plane? Can that land?" Howard wanted to know. "My boss may think I'm having too much fun here."

Everyone chuckled, and Challenger replied that no Lysanders were on hand, the two that they had having been strafed. "Total losses, the both of them," he admitted.

"Do not be concerned, Major," intoned the Maharajah. "I will see that no problems occur. It is known to me that your Gen. Stillwell is not fond of the British, but I know your ambassador in New Delhi, and I will see that he understands that it is at my insistence that you have remained, plus the unavoidable damage to the airstrips at Ancestor. In any event, Stillwell is in China now, and your presence here will probably not reach his ears. I think you need have no concerns, and we will treat you well. I wish to invite you and the rest of our group here to a tiger shoot tomorrow. It may be something that a man of your courage will enjoy. I think you may find it almost as exciting as air combat." He smiled thinly, knowing just how "thrilling" it could be if a tiger charged the elephants on which the hunters rode.

"I thank Your Highness, but I'm not sure that my S&W .45 revolver is the right gun for tiger." said Howard, and the others laughed.

"Fear not, Major Howard. I have plenty of spare guns for guests, and you will be able to find something that fits you and is of suitable caliber. I believe that only Sir John has brought his own rifles, so after we dine, we will adjourn to the gun room and see who prefers what. Caroline, I have a rifle that I think you will like. It was used by your mother on a visit here in 1939, before the war began."

Talk turned to the air battle that day, with the ruler telling them that his son had been seen by the doctor. He would receive another pint of blood, but was resting as comfortably as could be expected. The British officers consented to seeing that Singh was awarded convalescent leave to recover at his father's home.

Howard managed to direct conversation to the Challenger family and the books that Caroline had brought to sell for the war effort. Two titles were available, as well as copies of a new book by a man named Jim Corbett. "Man-Eaters of Kumaon" was the first volume by this modest, courageous man, who had achieved considerable fame as a naturalist and hunter. No one present had any idea that his books would become world famous and be great classics of hunting literature. (Note: Corbett was very real, and his books are strongly recommended. Safari Press may have reprints. Corbett National Park, a tiger refuge, is now named for him.)

Dinner was served, with wine for the Europeans. The main dish was some sort of chicken presentation that Howard found to be a bit spicy for his taste, but very good. Venison was also available, and he chose that. He was told that the deer involved were chital, or Axis deer. The meat was wonderful, better than the white-tailed deer of his home state.

After the meal, all gathered in a nearby room, and Caroline got out the books. Howard immediately wanted both written by Baroness Challenger. He saw her photos, and realized that she had a strong resemblance to her daughter in her younger pictures, although one could easily tell one from the other. He also found photos of the Challenger siblings in both volumes, pictures showing them from around ten years of age until 1942, the last being taken in Scotland while deer stalking, war or no war. Howard decided that Caroline photographed as well as she looked, and hoped that she might age as well as her mother, who was obviously still well preserved, trim, with no sign of middle- aged sag or bag. Baron Challenger was a bit intimidating, a large man who still looked strong in pictures taken only a few years before. He didn't miss the fond look the elder Challengers were giving one another in a photo of them together in Africa in 1932.

"Your parents seem to be very happy with one another," he ventured when he managed to isolate Caroline for a moment. "You are lucky to have such a nice family and such an adventurous life. Did you travel with them often, to jungles and whatnot?"

"Yes," she said. "Arthur was actually born in Brazil, while they were stranded on a remote plateau. I came along a few years later, when they already had our home in Kent. Father was famous by then, and Mum not much less so. Maybe a bit infamous, too, as Mum is Father's second wife. His first died of flu while he was away in Brazil, and he and Mum met while he was on that expedition. The death avoided some nasty issues that might have faced them when they arrived in Britain, but they had already had Arthur, and there was a bit of a scandal when people realized that Father must have had a liaison with Mum while being unaware that his wife was dead. They were already married by the time that I arrived, so I'm untainted by the unsavory aura surrounding my brother." She saw Arthur watching, and stuck out her tongue at him. Howard laughed, and saw Arthur grin. No one else noticed, being absorbed by the books and their own conversations and the brandy and port brought in by servants. Tom Howard felt something stir in him, and he realized that he felt happy to have shared this private humor with the Challenger siblings.

Howard told Caroline that he wanted two sets of the books by Baroness Challenger and two by (then) Major Corbett.

"I'll keep one set of each here, and ship the other home, just in case any of my baggage gets lost when I leave India." Then, he remembered that he carried little personal cash. He pulled out one of the gold coins that he had been issued for bribing natives if he was shot down and offered it, receiving change in rupees and a few British pound notes. He'd have to replace the coin, but had the money, back on base.

Caroline was called over by the Maharajah after she had sold several other books, and was shown a .275 Rigby rifle that her mother had used in 1939, on a visit to this very host. She shouldered it with relish, finding it a perfect fit. "Mum and I have arms about the same length, and we're both five feet, seven inches tall, so I expect it isn't surprising that we can so often use the same guns and rifles and even share many clothes."

"Good thing, too," rejoined her brother. "I'm certainly not sharing any of my clothes with you!" That brought the expected laugh, and Caroline handed the rifle to Howard, and drew Arthur in and hugged him. The Group Captain, embraced by his lovely sister in front of his immediate superior and a senior officer from New Delhi, blushed, but hugged her back and pecked her on the cheek.

"That's all the kissing you're getting from me, Love. You want any more, you'll have to try your luck with one of these other gentlemen. Major Howard, I'd think twice about kissing those lips, were I you. I've heard some awful words come out of them, over the years!" More chuckles.

Caroline selected the .275 and a .375 H&H Magnum for her rifles. The .275 would be used to shoot chital and smaller deer, and the heavier rifle was for tiger. The hunt would hopefully produce a mixed bag, as the elephants "beat" a stretch of jungle and brush a few miles from the palace. She also chose a Purdey 20 bore shotgun for fowl. The Maharajah asked whether Finn still had her Mannlicher-Schoenauer that he remembered, and Caroline said that it was still among her mother's favorites, and that she, Caroline, also had one and liked it very well.

Howard was shown several guns, including a Winchester M-70 .30/06 and the same in a larger .375 Magnum chambering. Both rifles were beautiful, with selected walnut stocks tipped in ebony, and "Super Grade" discreetly marked on the magazine floorplates. He also chose a Winchester M-12 shotgun, with Pigeon Grade wood and a ventilated rib atop the barrel to aid aiming and dissipate heat waves as the barrel heated in prolonged firing. It was a 12 gauge, his favorite for all-round shotgunning, especially as he had been told that the party might put up pheasant and even peafowl. These larger birds took more killing than would quail.

When all those invited to hunt had chosen their arms and been passed boxes of British Kynoch and Winchester ammunition, the Maharajah closed the gun room door and locked it, leading the way back to the table for a final round of drinks and conversation about the impending hunt. Tom Howard felt eyes on him, an instinct that had served him well as both a hunter and a fighter pilot. He turned his head slightly, and saw Lady Diana looking at him speculatively. He felt a stir of interest, for Diana Hamilton was an extremely attractive woman. Technically, she was probably slightly better looking than Caroline Challenger, and a bit taller. She carried herself well, with just enough of a feminine sway to her hips to tug at a man's eyes while not causing public comment by the more virtuous members of polite society. Nonetheless, Howard suspected that some women had seen that walk, and later taken their men aside to hear some pungent words for watching it!

He smiled, and then realized that Lady Diana was coming his way. He stepped aside to let her pass, but she took his hand and led him to the table, where she sat to his right. The Air Commodore was on his left, effectively precluding Caroline from sitting there, had she been so inclined. He looked around for her, as he answered Diana's question about whether he had been afraid, diving at 400 miles an hour into a large formation of Japanese planes.

She raised a hand to her mouth, making a sound to indicate that she was impressed by his gallantry. "Major, you must be incredibly brave!" she ventured.

"Oh, I am, "he conceded."I was the first boy in my class to ask a girl to dance in junior high school. That was a terrifying experience, but when I survived and she said 'yes', the other fellows stepped up to the plate, too, and the girls all got to dance. The lucky ones didn't even get their toes stepped on." Laughter, for others had heard the exchange, and Howard felt Challenger watching him, wondering how he would respond to that question by an admiring female. Challenger's eyes twinkled, and he half smiled, before turning to hear something the Maharajah was saying.

Lady Diana asked other things, about his life as a combat pilot and his university years, and how many enemy planes he had downed. He answered as modestly as he could, looking around when it wasn't rude to do so, trying to find Caroline. Suddenly, he saw her, seated between the Air Vice Marshal's aide and an Indian woman whom he hadn't met. Their eyes locked as he recognized her and she held the look as he answered the next question. Caroline began to blush, but didn't look away, and Howard realized that he was probably looking a little flushed, himself. Finally, Diana tapped him on the shoulder, breaking his concentration. He turned to her and asked her to repeat her question, and recognized the pique in her gaze. Hmmm...perhaps it would be best to divide his attention more equably between the ladies. It would seem more polite, and he could perhaps play one off against the other, making them compete for his attention, if he got that lucky. But he knew that he was kidding himself if he didn't admit that every time he looked at Caroline Challenger, something inside him twanged like a guitar string, and when she had taken his hand earlier, he had felt a tangible jolt. Probably just static electricity in the carpet, he told himself. But he knew it wasn't, and he suddenly realized that he was smiling at nothing. Too late, he composed his face, but Diana and Sir John's aide had both noticed the smile, and Diana pointedly asked what was so amusing.

"Oh," he said hastily, "I was just thinking how glad I am to be alive tonight. For awhile this afternoon, I wasn't sure that I'd be around for dinner, let alone one as good as we had, in such wonderful company. What was it we were discussing?"

He noticed Diana's expression as she began her answer, then became aware that Caroline was coughing, as if she might be trying to hide a laugh. Damn, Howard thought. I really need to learn to be more subtle. And I used to think that I could handle women as well as I could fly a plane...

When the others said goodnight and adjourned to their rooms, Howard noticed that Challenger and Astrid van Rijn lingered, talking in a corner of the room. They seemed to know one another rather well, and at one point, she touched Arthur's elbow and also brushed a bit of lint off the front of his uniform. Howard made note of this, and decided to watch both carefully in future, at least until he knew who stood where with whom. If Challenger and Astrid were involved, more power to them, he thought. They did look like a nice couple, the tall British pilot and the lovely Dutch girl, whose English was good, if not perfect. Certainly, they seemed able to communicate very well on one level, as Astrid also improved her language skills on another.

Howard found Lady Diana at his side, and she suggested that they take a moonlight stroll around the palace grounds.

Howard was fumbling for an answer, looking around for Caroline, when she disengaged from the Air Vice Marshal's aide and strode briskly over.

"Oh, there you are, Tom! Will you help me get those books back into the room the Maharajah gave me for stashing them? I don't want anyone nicking (stealing) some of them while we sleep."

Diana shot her an angry look. "Miss Challenger, Tom was just about to let me show him the grounds. Do you mind?"

Howard saw his chance and said, "I'm sorry, Diana, but I promised Caroline earlier that I'd help her. I just didn't know she was ready now. May I take a rain check on that walk?"

Diana sputtered, and then stalked off, a woman scorned, Howard feared, and dangerous. Hell hath no fury like...

Caroline looked at him, amused. He liked her smile, warm, yet wry. She chuckled and said, "My memory must be failing me in old age, Major. I don't recall having asked you for help earlier. But that was very neatly done. I can use your strength. I trust that I haven't ruined your chances of romance with that lady. She seemed disappointed."

"You probably did cause me to have a major setback," he admitted, "so you owe me, lady. If I help you move the books, will YOU take me for a moonlight walk of the grounds? I want the walk. I'm just selective about who I take it with." He looked directly into her eyes, studying her face. It was a pretty nice face, he decided. Went well with the rest of her...

"Tom," she countered, "do you really think I'd take a moonlight walk with a man I've just met? Whatever might you think of me?" But she was blushing hotly and her eyes were bright. She ran her tongue over her lips, wanting to be with him, but wondering what he would think if she agreed to escort him into the darkness. Would she seem "easy"?

"Caroline, I think a lot of you from what I've seen already, and this war isn't going to allow us a lot of time to get gradually acquainted. It compels people to compress their time together and move on with things if they expect to get to know one another. I could have died today. I may die tomorrow or the next day. That's the risk in what I do. I don't want to die without spending some time with you, and I hope you feel the same way. Let's go move those books, and get better acquainted while we do. I think I want to spend time with you, even if it's just shuffling books. I'd rather do that with you than stroll in the moonlight with Diana. I think she knows that, and isn't too happy about it."

Caroline was touched, and it showed before she arranged her expression. "Book shuffling it is, then." She laughed. "I must say, you are the very first man I've met who'd rather move books than spend time with a girl who looks like that."

With the aid of several Indian servants, they soon had the books stored in a lockable room. Howard found the four that he'd bought earlier, and asked Caroline to autograph them. "I want to remember you and this night in Oriental splendor for the rest of my life," he admitted.

She colored, and took out her fountain pen and signed the books on behalf of her mother. Then she looked at him carefully and said, "I want to thank you for saving my brother's life today, Tom. He can be a pill at times, but I love him dearly. Our parents would have been crushed to lose him. He's a good brother and a better son. From all the Challenger clan, thank you, from the bottom of our hearts. "

He noticed tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and took her hand."Caroline, I was just glad to have been able to be of assistance. I like your brother. I hope we can become friends. Let's go out and talk about him and your family and other things. And if that's all you feel that you want to do, it's enough. I'm not expecting any more from you. If I was interested in that, I know where I could get it tonight, and I'm fairly sure about that. What I want instead is to get to know you. Tell me what to expect on tomorrow's hunt. Okay?"

She looked around, and not seeing Arthur or a senior official, told him yes; she would walk with him. In fact, she had been hoping to, if it could be arranged without looking too "forward" on her part.

They moved out onto the patio, and then found solace in the shadows beyond the light from the door.

Howard and Caroline Challenger stood talking beyond the door, but when they saw servants still moving in the room beyond, they edged further into the dark.

After talking for a few moments, he took her hand and led her to a stone bench decorated with the ruler's tiger symbols. They looked carefully for any snakes or scorpions, and then sat. He told her that he was impressed that she had looked automatically even as he explained the need for caution, for India has many dangerous creatures that strike incautious humans in the dark.

Caroline laughed. "Really, Tom! I grew up spending time in India, Africa, and South America. I know to look for snakes. It's so ingrained in me that I'd probably look if I was in Ireland, which does have vipers in spite of the legend that St. Patrick drove them all out. He must have missed a few, although bites are rare, and not as serious usually as the bites that one gets from the tropical snakes. India may lose as many as 40,000 people a year due to snakebite, with cobras, kraits, and the Russell's and Saw-Scaled vipers being the worst offenders. And some scorpions are quite nasty, too, as in Africa and the Middle East. Some are as virulent as cobras! Do you have scorpions and snakes in Texas? I think I've seen them in Western movies?"

He admitted that there were both, and told her which species and how to deal with them, especially in West Texas, where scorpions were much more common than in the eastern part of the huge state.

The talk turned to various animals, hunts they had enjoyed, and their families. Eventually, they could trip around the issue no longer, and they began to talk of themselves and their hopes and dreams for the future. Each was pleased that the other wanted just two children, but did want those.

"Do your eyes ever get you in trouble with the police?" Tom asked, taking her face in one hand and turning it so he could see her better in the moonlight.

"No; why should they? I don't use them for peeping into mens' windows, although I've been tempted a few times!"

"Well, they're these deep pools that a man could drown in, and you don't have any warning signs posted. I think there are local ordinances about that!" he joked.

She laughed, and told him that she had heard far worse "lines" from other men. "Anyway, if what you say is true, how is it that my eyes haven't enchanted you into kissing me? We haven't got all night, in case you want to see what you missed when I interrupted your session with Diana. Will I do? I'm told that I kiss fairly well."

"Why rely on reports? Let's see how you kiss, first hand." And he took her face, pulled her close, and they kissed. After a time, they began exploratory tongue work, and his hand slipped around behind her and began caressing her back through the thin satin-like party gown that she wore, white, like the lunar light that illuiminated them softly on this stone bench in the garden of desire...

He began to play with her golden tresses, then ran his fingers, the backs of them, gently along her neck and lightly felt her ears. From there, he disengaged his lips and moved them to her neck. A hand slid carefully down her front confirmed the erect nipple on her right breast, felt easily though the bra-less party dress, which featured as much decollete as was fashionable in that day. He kissed around the base of an ear for awhile before sliding his fingertips down her neckline, touching the nipple and kneadng it gently, briefly, before tugging it lightly. Caroline groaned, and pulled him toward her, resuming the kiss, running her hands over his hair and down his face.

"Oh, Tom," she sighed. "Wherever did you learn to do this? Never mind; I don't want to know. But if you can do this to a woman, why aren't you already married?" She snickered softly in the darkness, then settled her lips on his before he had to think of a suitable answer.

Howard kissed skillfully, using all the talent that he had amassed from junior high school dates through some hot and heavy encounters with girls in Britain who had eliminated his concern about being killed while yet a virgin. Several of those ladies had taught him well...

He slid a hand up her skirt, teasing her lips and neck and hair to distract her from where the hand wandered. It had reached halfway up her thigh on the inside, where he began stroking it until she realized what he was doing and pulled his arm from beneath her dress.

"Not just yet, Fast Worker, " she breathed. "I am really a much more virtuous girl than it seems at the moment."

"I have no problem with you at the moment, "he replied."I'd rather kiss you than screw Diana, to put it bluntly. And I don't want us to do anything that will make you feel bad about yourself in the morning. I want you beside me on that hunt, where I can stare at you all day. You'll have to spot the game for us; I'll have eyes only for you. Caroline, I'm only half joking: you hit me tonight like a bolt of lightning, and I don't want to scare you off by getting too greedy before you decide that you want me even a third as much as I want you. You're one heck of a honey, and I'm thrilled to have finally met you. Where can I send your parents a thank-you card for creating someone as wonderful as you?"

She laughed, shaken a little, because she sensed that this was more than another "line" from a man in the throes of passion. "Just don't get more than a few inches above my knees with your wandering mitts, and we'll see what happens, "she whispered. "Now, where were we when you tried to see how my knickers might feel?" And she pulled him back into her.

"If your knickers feel half as smooth as you do, lady, I'm a goner. Can we 'neck' and still talk about the hunt? I really do want to know what to expect. I bet we can do two things at once. I'm a Gemini, if you've ever read any astrology." He carefully omitted that his own tutelage in this area had come from a ravishing brunette in London who was interested in occult and such otherworldly matters, but who was also very "worldly" in another sense of the word.

"I'm a Gemini, too," she answered. "My 'aunt' Marguerite, who is really my godmother and a couple of her friends, taught me about that sort of thing. I only half believe in it, but have seen some interesting coincidences, if there's nothing to it. Anyway, about the hunt, keep kissing me and I'll get in some words edgewise. Geminis are great talkers, you know. And flirts..."

And she did talk, between gasps and sighs, and Howard even felt a prickle of goosebumps before she pulled his hand from under her dress again. But he was listening, too, and the details of a royal "shikar" or Indian hunt from elephant back thrilled him almost as much as the desirable woman in his arms.

Suddenly, they heard someone coming and they disengaged and hid behind a wide granite column supporting the tall roof of the palace. Howard shifted his .45 around where he could reach it quickly if the intruders were dacoits, bandits.

They saw Diana Hamilton and Squadron Leader Wilson, the Air Attaché's aide, stumble past the frame of light from the door and heard someone else demand, "Who's there? I'm armed. Stop and identify yourselves!" Challenger! Howard knew the voice...He and Caroline looked at one another, half in amusement and half in alarm.

"Oh, do shut up, Arthur! It's Diana, and Johnny Wilson. We're not Jap paratroops. What an imagination you must have! Anyway, what the hell are you doing out here at this hour?"

"Ah. Diana! I was more concerned about Indian nationalists and assassins than Japs. As for what I'm doing out here, it's Astrid, not that we'd gotten so far as to say, 'doing", if you follow that train of thought. But we have passed some very pleasant time in the moonlight, and I daresay that you have, as well. Eh?" They heard him chuckle.

A thought struck him. "I say! Have you seen my sister?"

"Not lately, "she replied."But earlier, she and Major Howard were looking at one another like cats in heat and I fancy that they found something to do after he helped her to load those books of your mother's into the storage room. Why don't you knock on Tom Howard's door and see whether she might be in there?"

"Tom Howard and my sister! Are you sure, Diana? He seems a pukka sahib, a proper gentleman, and my sister, is, well, my sister. Mum and Father didn't raise a whore, if that's what you're implying. How dare you? Anyway, are you sure?" He realized that Caroline was nineteen now, and he hadn't seen much of her for the past two years. Could she really be so 'loose' as to dally with the Texan? Or with other men? Of course, all girls grew up and one had to watch them, lest they succumb to their lusts and embarrass their families. If anything, wartime had accelerated the ease with which the right man might arouse a girl into doing things that her brother didn't like to think of her doing. Although, to be sure, he might himself be trying to coax someone else's sister into trying the precise same activities as he denied his distaff sibling!

The couples talked a little longer, then went in, Challenger vowing to find Caroline and be sure that she was all right.

Tom turned to his date and said that they had better be getting in. She agreed, the tinkle of her laughter abating his fear that she might be scandalized by the prospect of their being detected. They agreed to sit together at breakfast, and kissed good night before they slipped into the palace and quickly went separate ways to their rooms.

When he approached his room, Howard saw Challenger at the door, rapping on it. "Tom! Dammit! Wake Up! Have you seen my sister? She's missing."

Howard called out and walked up to the RAF ace, telling him that he had just come in from a walk around the grounds, but was sure that Caroline was well. "What could she get into here? She told me about tomorrow's hunt after we moved the books and I think she went off to bed. Have you tried her room?"

Challenger looked suspiciously at Howard's cheek. "What is that red smudge on your face, Howard? Lipstick, rouge? Are you certain that you haven't seen Caroline?"

Howard blushed, and wiped his face with his handkerchief. "Sir, I think the world of your sister, and I have only honorable interest in her. I feel sure that she would do nothing wrong. Again, have you checked her room?"

"No, I'm on my way there now. Howard, if you stain our family honor..."

"That is the last thing that I'd do, Arthur. If I ever do anything like you're implying with Caroline, it will be with long-term interest in her. She impresses me deeply, and I simply don't see her as a recreational dalliance, if that's what's worrying you. Now, I'm going in to bed. We have a strenuous hunt tomorrow. Call me if she isn't in her room, and I'll help you look. Good night." And he went into his room and shut the door.

Challenger stood, vexed, and about to demand a better answer, then decided that he perhaps didn't want it. And he sort of believed Howard when he said that he wouldn't 'dally' with his sister.

He stomped off down the hall and on to the next floor, where the night maid showed him to Caroline's room. He pounded on the door. "Caroline! Open up! Are you in there?"

Caroline had just slipped past the maid and was washing her face. She stripped off her dress, donning a lilac silk robe as she went to the door, mussing her hair as if she had been sleeping.

Opening the door, she mumbled, "Arthur! What's wrong? Is there a fire? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

He fumbled for words, and then said, "I just wanted to be sure that you were safe before turning in. Were you in bed?"

She looked at him with concern and said, "Yes, in bed. What's wrong, Pill? You look flushed. Where would I be at this hour but in bed?"

"Pill", calmed by her use of the pet name for him, mumbled something about being concerned about nationalists and snakes and hugged her good night.

"Take care, Pest. I'll see you at breakfast. Oh, you've met Tom Howard. What do you think of him?"

"He seems very nice," she responded. "He saved your life. He must be a very good fighter pilot. He isn't boastful like some Texans. He's good looking. I want to hunt near him tomorrow. I like him. Why?"

Challenger said that he was just wondering, that someone had said that she had seen the two of them together, and that they might be attracted to one another. "I have to look out for my little sister, you know, Pest."

She stuck out her tongue and pushed him out the door. "Arthur, really. You're as bad as Father. Go to bed. I'll try to talk to Tom more and let you know what I think, but he seems very kind so far, and I quite like him. I'm sure that he's a nice fellow, and that you need have no worries about my chastity, if that's what's bothering you. Men!" She laughed, and closed the door.

Challenger frowned, then decided to call it a night and stalked off toward his own room. On the way, he met Astrid van Rijn, who had been looking for him.

"Oh, Arthur! There you are! Have you found her? Is she all right?"

"Yes, she's in her room, and is fine. But Howard had a smudge of lipstick or something on his cheek and gave me an evasive answer about exploring the grounds. I'm not certain that that was all that he was exploring."

"You're sweet, Love, but you must allow Caroline to grow up. I feel sure that Maj. Howard won't get any further with her than she wants. She seems very able to look after herself, and he seems a very decent chap. They did seem attracted to one another, but I doubt that it's anything to worry about. She'll soon be going home, anyway. Kiss me goodnight, Darling; I have to get some sleep before tomorrow's shikar. I don't want to drift off and fall from the howdah. A tiger might eat me."

Caroline finished cleaning up and changed knickers to lacy black ones that she loved feeling against her skin. They were much briefer than were most panties of the day, being designed by her mother after the styles of her own futuristic origins. Finn and her friend Lady Roxton had their lingerie made to their specifications by a shop in London, for friends and a few others who liked the risqué aspects of their sensual styles. She reflected that Tom would call knickers "panties". What was it that Churchill had quipped? That the British and the Americans were two peoples divided by a common language? She laughed, very pleased with the way this night had gone.

The light now out, she squirmed and adjusted her position in bed. She tried to sleep, but thoughts of her and Tom in the garden kept intruding. Finally, she lay on her back, her knee -length black gown rucked up high, her hands moving over her breasts, tweaking the erect, hard nipples. She felt moisture between her thighs and slipped off the knickers, tossing them on the nightstand. They would only hinder what was coming.

She slipped her right hand onto her _mons veneris_, and massaged her sex, moaning softly, then harder, as her fingers slipped into the entrance to her joy, gradually playing there and with her breasts and along her thighs where his hand had been an hour before.

"Oh, Tom! TOM! "she heard herself moaning, and her loins thrashed as she applied the final pressure and manipulation that brought her to climax. After, she wiped her hand on the pillow case and tried again to sleep. But he kept returning to her drowsy mind, compelling her to repeat her masturbation. This time, she felt sated and slumbered as if in a coma. Then dreams pricked her body, and she rolled, clutching her pillow. Not even awake, she muttered, "Tommm..." and finally slept the rest of the weary.

In the distance, a tigress called, roaring for a mate.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning, some were groggier than others, but all were eager for the hunt.

Caroline sat with Tom at breakfast and many noticed that their conversation seemed to be shy, with many looks at one another, but animated. Eyebrows were raised. Smiles were smiled. But several of the others were themselves involved with one another, and politeness restrained the rest from asking how Tom and Caroline had seemingly become so well acquainted on such short notice. Arthur Challenger felt sure that he knew the answer, but had decided that his sister probably knew what she was doing. In any event, long experience with "Pest" as they grew up had taught him that if he pressed the matter, she would only become more stubborn. He would watch, but hold his tongue for the moment.

When they went out to mount the elephants, Howard was a rank amateur, having never seen any pachyderms outside of a zoo. He was concerned about riding one of the huge beasts, tending to think of them mainly as dangerous game in Africa, if he ever got to hunt there.

Both of the Challengers and Squadron Leader Smythe helped him grasp what to do and helped him to mount, handing up his rifles, shotgun, lunch, water, tea, and a first aid packet.

The mahout, who spoke some English, told him that this elephant was "a good girl" gentle to ride and an experienced veteran of several hunts. "She stand firm if Shere come, Sahib," he promised. Howard knew that "Shere Khan" was a tiger. Just the name sent shivers down his spine!

The ten elephants moved forward and the shikar master dressed the line and ensured that all were ready. Seeing that the time was at hand, he signaled the advance.

After going down the nearby plain for about a mile, the hunt moved into thin, then thicker, brush. It became jungle, and it was harder to keep the line dressed.

Several pheasant flushed, and shots rang out. A few birds fell, and the line paused while the natives along for the purpose slid off the elephants and recovered the game for the "guns" who had shot it.

Arthur Challenger rode over and told Howard that they would probably flush some smaller game first, before moving on to where a tiger was likely to emerge from the jungle.

Howard saw the way of things, and loaded his 12 gauge, shoving the red shells up under the gun, into the tubular magazine. He also loaded the magazines of the two rifles, but closed the bolts on empty chambers, for safety's sake. He held the Model 12 ready, hoping that birds would flush in the line of fire allocated to his elephant.

When they came, it was with a burst of feathers that shocked him as the pair of kaleege pheasant thundered aloft. It was like having a covey of quail explode into action before one's face, but here, the "bird dog" was an elephant! He mounted the gun and fired twice, feeling the smoothness of his swing, tracking the birds well, as if he had been at home, where he owned a shotgun just like this one. Both birds dropped, but one attempted to scurry off with a broken wing. He had already cycled the slide, pumping a new shell into the chamber, and fired. As he felt the recoil slam his shoulder, he registered another shot. Looking to his right, he saw that Wilson had his double-barreled Holland and Holland 12 bore up.

Wilson looked coolly over at him and explained, "Had to make sure of that wounded bird, Howard. Sloppy shooting results in wounded game, and that's frowned on here. Can't let them escape to suffer, you know. Absolutely just not done, old man." He seemed rather smug, and Howard's temper flared. He really didn't like Wilson much, he found. Good match for Diana. Both of them were pretty impressed with themselves...

"Thank you, Mr. Wilson," he replied politely. "I certainly wouldn't want to do something that's 'not done'". He heard Caroline laugh. So did Wilson, who glared at both of them.

Sensing the tension, the Maharajah, who was an astute, worldly man and who correctly identified the source of the tiff as being a woman, called across in Hindi to Howard's mahout. The man answered, and told Howard to watch as the elephant retrieved the dead pheasants.

"Hey, wait a minute," exclaimed the Texan. "I want to eat one of those birds! They'll be crushed!"

"Oh, no, Sahib," answered the elephant handler. "I promise totally that they will not be being smushed and crushed. The elephant's trunk is being oh, so sensitive. You will see: the birds will not be compressed much at all, just a little of the feathers! I, Ahmal, swear this on the souls of my ancestors!" He grinned, proud of the elephant and of this opportunity to impress the sahib from America.

Sure enough, the pheasants were in good condition. Ahmal "drew" them, threw the intestines off the howdah, where they would no doubt be consumed by vultures, which were circling at a distance. They knew that death was in the air, and hoped for morsels to come their way...He put the dead birds into a wicker basket, and the line advanced.

"What if one of the birds hadn't been quite dead?" asked Howard. "If it fluttered around, would that scare the elephant?"

"Oh, ha, ha! Howard Sahib makes a good question. I have been hoping not to have to find this thing out. So far, all birds we collect this way have been dead. But once, my cousin, a very splendid mahout, had his elephant panic when a bird flew as the trunk went to grasp it. There was a great confusion in the howdah, and the sahib almost fell out of the basket. But that is rare. I will try to be sure that your birds are all dead." He winked conspiratorially. "We would not wish to upset Wilson Sahib, eh?" Howard laughed outright, delighting Ahmal, and earning another glare from Wilson, who had not heard the barb, but sensed that he might be the butt of some joke.

The line of elephants paused, and half halted, as the other five mounts moved through a new piece of forest. Ten elephants would be too hard to control and keep the line dressed, and the cover was simply too heavy.

The Maharajah faced the remaining five hunters to the left, and they "beat" a different patch of forest. Howard noted that the direction they traveled did not conflict with the forward progress of the first group, so that neither line of guns would fire toward the other.

He soon heard a shot, then someone called out that Smythe had bagged a chital, the spotted Axis deer, and that the antlers were exceptional, even for that well-antlered species.

They moved toward a river, where game drank, and could be found coming from or to the water along well beaten jungle trails. Howard would have preferred to still-hunt (stalk) this area on foot, delighting in the sounds and smells of true jungle interspersed with more open glades.

Or, he would set up an ambush along a game trail, and collect his venison that way. But this was an exotic way of hunting, and he knew that he would cherish having done it unto his dying day.

Caroline called across that the area contained sambar deer, related to the European Red Deer and to the American elk or wapiti. They were a favorite quarry of tigers, and Shere Khan might appear at any moment, although a separate "beat" for tigers had been arranged for after lunch. Tom set the Model 12 aside and cycled a cartridge into the chamber of his borrowed .375 Magnum. He wouldn't need that much power for sambar, but if the elephants roused a tiger, it was best to be ready.

Alas, they flushed only one sambar, which escaped after Wilson tried for it. His bullet struck a branch and ricocheted as the big deer sprang over a bush and vanished into heavier cover. Tom tried not to rejoice in Wilson's embarrassment, but he was glad that if someone had to miss, it had been his smug rival.

In time, the two lines of elephants rejoined and beat another patch of jungle and mixed scrub, this time again for birds and hares. Everyone got in some shooting, and Howard was impressed with the way that Caroline Challenger handled her Purdey. The 20 gauge pointed well for her, and she was obviously a skilled wingshot, as are so many upper-class Britishers. He shot another brace of pheasant and two hares, which reminded him of a cross between a jackrabbit and a big cottontail. Diana swung up her Mannlicher and killed a running jackal in an exceptional display of marksmanship. Markswomanship, he corrected himself, with a smile. Diana could be prissy and probably had sex more casually than he was comfortable with in a woman whom he might marry, but she was a fine shot, and he had learned to admire her wit. She had some good jokes, which she told with droll relish, and this, combined with her exceptional beauty, had most of the men firmly among her admirers.

Caroline saw him looking at Diana, who was being congratulated on her fine shot, and she gave him an aloof look and turned away. Howard asked the mahout to pull up aside her howdah, and he called over to her. "That was well done of her! Diana led that jackal just right, and I'm impressed. But don't look so peeved. I've been watching you a lot more than her. I meant what I said about the two of you last night. Take that to heart, but don't let it go to your head!" He grinned to show that he was teasing, but he looked right into her eyes and winked, and Caroline laughed, unable to harbor a grudge in view of his sincerity and his comment.

"Oh, Mr. Howard, you are very good at charming the ladies! Look at all, yet defuse the one who gets jealous. Just try not to stare at her."

"Caroline, I'm male: it's written in my genes that I have to stare at her, at least some. But I just completely gawk in wide-eyed wonder at you! If anyone has cause for jealousy, it's her."

"So, you think I'm jealous, eh? You think pretty highly of yourself for a man I barely know. Look at Diana all you want; I'm sure that all you men will. She basks in it. In case you haven't noticed, she's an exhibitionist. That dress she wore last night and the way she walks are disgusting. She craves male adoration, and she gets it."

"Meow," smiled the Texan. "Caroline, I repeat: Diana Hamilton is a gorgeous woman, and she knows just how to 'work' men, but you have no reason to resent her. Your own brand of witty, feminine charm and sportiness just eclipses even her, as far as I'm concerned. Besides, I prefer blondes. And you're a terrific fit in my arms!"

She looked at him, then the mahout, in horror. The mahout steadfastly looked away as if he hadn't heard which was probably best for all. She colored and asked if he meant the world to hear what they had been doing by night.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I just got carried away, concentrating on you. Look, can you speak any other languages than English? I can do French and pretty fair German and Spanish. We could talk in one of those if you can. Privacy, you see."

She snorted. "Not bloody likely, Tom! Half of those here manage French or German fairly well, and you wouldn't know any of the other languages I speak, like Zanga or Afrikaans. I told you, I've been around as I grew up. Don't take that the wrong way and make a joke of it, either. I've gotten to know your ways, Mister! You're worse at making puns and the like than Arthur is."

"You remembered! How sweet!"

She laughed in spite of her pique. "Oh, Tom! You really are irrepressible. Whatever shall I do with you? And don't make any lewd suggestions, either!"

"Hallo over there," called the Air Vice Marshal. "Is everything all right? Any problems with your howdah, Maj. Howard?"

"We're fine, Sir. Miss Challenger and I were just discussing Diana's fine shot. She certainly knew how to lead that running jackal!"

"Ah. I see. Well, look, you two, we're going to beat one more lot of jungle, then pause for lunch. Anyone hungry?"

A chorus of "yeses" rang out and the group rallied for a last pass through some likely looking country. Wilson shot a sambar stag that flushed from cover ahead of his elephant, and they paused to collect, admire, and clean it. That done, the party moved to open ground and dismounted and lunch was laid out.

Tom and Caroline ate with Arthur and Astrid in a foursome, and they found each other to be both funny and compatible. Howard saw from the edge of his vision that Wilson, a few yards away, was giving him hard looks. Obviously, he was unhappy about the Texan's progress with Caroline, on whom he had evidently set his own sights.

Caroline became aware that she, in turn, was getting spiteful glances from Diana Hamilton. After the third such glance, she waited until the other couple was watching, then slid over close to Tom and held his hand. Arthur's eyebrows shot up like a Spitfire climbing full out, but he held his tongue. He did shoot a questioning, rather critical, glance his sister's way.

She was expecting it, and winked at him, letting him know that more was going on than it seemed, and that she would tell him about it later. "Pest" had used that signal since they were children, and he decided to respect her wishes, for the present, anyway. He risked a look toward the Maharajah and the senior officers, and realized that they were in such an animated discussion about something that no one was paying attention to his foursome. Good Lord, he realized, Pest could have kissed Howard and they'd not have noticed. That was unpleasant territory, for it reminded him that she probably HAD kissed the straw-haired American! He swallowed a bite of peafowl sandwich with a bigger gulp than usual. He reached for a glass of lemonade. It's a good thing that we're at lunch, if Sis is going to drive me to drink, he reasoned. Lemonade is better for me than what I'll be drinking later in the day...

Then, he too, noticed a sidelong glance from Diana and John Wilson. A light went on in his mind and he saw with sudden clarity that his impression of the night before was correct: Diana had indeed had predatory intent toward Howard, and was jealous that Tom had wound up with Caroline. And Wilson was probably attracted to his sister, too. Well, at least, Wilson was a brother RAF officer, and British. But there was something about him that Challenger instinctively didn't like, and Tom, for all of his concern, came across as a good man who liked him and seemed to genuinely care for Caroline. Good gosh! Now Tom was handing Caroline pieces of apple that he'd peeled, and something about the way that the fruit was offered and accepted alarmed him. Maybe it was the way they stared into one anothers' eyes and the way their arms brushed as they reached out to one another. With a shock, he saw Caroline buttering a slice of bread that she had just cut and passing it to Tom. Now, this was really too much! He had seen THAT gesture before...when his mother did it for his father. It was one of the endearing little things that she did for the Baron, and their arms often touched just like Tom's and Caroline's were. He remembered that as being one of his parents' rituals since he was old enough to recall things. And his godparents, Lord and Lady Roxton, did that. It was something that one couple had done on that Plateau and the other had adopted the practice. I think that Mum told me that she was doing that for Father, and 'Aunt' Marguerite saw and started doing it for 'Uncle' John, he mused. They used to tease Mum for starting it...I remember now. Caroline, you...PEST! Tom will think that you're falling for him, or something, and make a pass at you and this whole thing will get messy and this man has twice saved my life and is a nice bloke and I don't like where this is headed! Gad! Sisters!

It was then that he looked to the left and saw the snake: a king cobra, ten or eleven feet long!

_Ophiophagus hannah_, the king cobra, was not just a big Monocellate or Indian cobra. It was a separate species altogether, with a narrower hood, and was the largest known venomous snake, with the record standing at some 18 feet. It could bite an elephant between the toenails and the amount of virulent venom injected could kill the huge pachyderm. This was known mainly because it had actually happened. No one was sure just how many men the venom in a single hamadryad, as the snake was also known, could kill. It was certainly five or more.

This flashed through Arthur Challenger's mind as he registered the basic olive green of the upper surfaces, with the light chevron markings. He sat very still until the snake had glided further along, then quietly informed the others what had just passed and was yet near. He set his sandwich down and drew his service revolver. Caroline looked, saw the snake, and also drew. Tom registered that they both had Smith & Wesson .38's that were essentially smaller versions of his .45, and drew his own gun. He looked at the snake from his peripheral vision, not wanting to turn his head fully, lest the movement arouse a strike. He had been briefed about the hamadryad, and he knew that when angry, the forest spirit could move fast, and showed great ferocity. It could, like the African Black Mamba, rise up and stare a man in the face, then kill him with a savage bite that lasted seconds, but ended years. In the king cobra, Mother Nature personified her darker side, filling the role of the Greek goddess who snipped the thread of life for men. What was her name; Atropos?

The cobra glided toward the open forest at the left of the camp, few having yet seen it. Howard hoped that it would go on its lethal way, not stopping to inject horror into this splendid day.

Then, all hell broke loose. Ahmal and another mahout, Govindra, came around a thick tree and were suddenly face-to-face with the snake. Govindra cried out and raised a hand to ward off the strike of this formidable beast and the snake instantly inflated its hood and rose up to the height of the Indian's chest. It began to growl, a noise so like that of a dog that Howard almost looked around for one.

Behind him, he heard F/Lt. Marais, a South African, exclaim, "_Magtig! Slang_! I'm sorry, Sir, I mean 'snake', and a bloody big one, too! Is that a hamadryad?" The Afrikaans accent was very noticeable, but no one had any trouble understanding his English. He had just vocalized the danger to which vision had already attested. His words spurred Challenger to action.

"Right, Pest, and you too, Tom. Sit still and pray that this thing glides off. If it moves a whit toward the mahouts, we have to chance shooting. Tom, I hope that you shoot like the movie Texans? Caroline is probably rusty."

"Actually, I'm still oiled and shiny, Arthur. I practice shooting a time or two a month at home when I've the ammunition, but I don't fancy having to hit that thing before it hits us. Has anyone at all got a shotgun handy?" Her voice was steady, but Howard noted the tremor beneath the words.

"I'm bloody getting mine," ejaculated Diana and rose to do so. The Merkel 16 gauge that she had borrowed was on the ground near her howdah basket, removed from her elephant during the midday rest.

The hamadryad saw her move, whipped around, and slithered toward her like the Sardis in flood, rushing to meet the confluence of rivers that became the Ganges. It left the two Indians standing in shock.

"Hell, shoot!" exclaimed Challenger, and the trio raised their guns and fired at the onrushing snake.

Arthur and his sister stood, rapidly firing with their arms outstretched, in a classic target shooter's stance. Howard knelt, holding his .45 in both hands, tracking the king cobra as it came, his left elbow braced against his knee for steadiness of aim. He fired, and the snake winced violently, stopping its forward motion, thrashing its coils in fury. The big bullet had probably broken the spine, about a foot below the head.

Caroline and Arthur stepped forward, and Tom held fire and rose. They were in his line of fire, and he had to move forward with them. Caroline stepped off to the right as the hamadryad dragged itself toward her, and fired a coup de grace shot into its green, scaled head. Simultaneously, her brother fired, his bullet striking the neck.

A Ghurka havildar (sergeant) ran up, khukri drawn, said, "Excuse please, mem'Sahib", and eased past Caroline. His heavy blade descended, and the snake's head flipped off its trunk, which was still wildly thrashing in its death throes.

"Not touch head. Snake is dead, but will yet bite," warned the Nepalese sergeant.

The Europeans lowered their guns, the trio who had fired reloading before they holstered their Smith & Wessons. Tom just extracted the three-shot "half moon" clip from which he had discharged two shots, and dropped in a new one. Later, he would pry the two fired .45 automatic cartridge cases loose from the clip and replace the rimless rounds with fresh ones. The little flat piece of metal called a clip held three automatic cartridges and allowed the revolver's extractor to eject the fired rounds, which had no rim for the extractor to catch. Had he not used the little thin clips, he would have had to use a pen or something to punch out each fired case. The system was a nuisance, and at home, he used commercial .45 Auto Rim cartridges, which had a thick rim to allow normal revolver function. Here, using government supplies, he at least had access to ample ammunition. Also, using a pair of three- shot clips let him reload all six chambers faster than if he had to use individual cartridges.

He looked back to see how the others were, and saw the Maharajah and the senior officers staring and talking earnestly. Then, he saw Wilson, holding a dead tree branch which he had seized from the ground. He was standing in front of Diana Hamilton, who had just registered that he had stood before her and raised the branch to protect them. She blanched as the realization of the close call impacted her, along with Wilson's gallant gesture, placing himself in harm's way to preserve her.

"I think you can put the branch down now, Wilson," joked Smythe, who had seen the jealous looks this twosome had sent the way of the American and Arthur's sister. Smythe had seen that couple interacting as they put away books the night before, and had seen Diana stalk off as Howard rejected her for Caroline. This had amused him, for Diana had snubbed him on previous occasions.

Wilson shot Smythe a nasty look, then dropped the branch. "I knew that I should have worn my revolver, but it just seemed a nuisance that wouldn't be needed," he mumbled.

Then, Diana was in his arms, thanking him for saving her, although it had actually been the Challengers and Tom Howard who had done the work in that regard.

That threesome looked self consciously at one another, and Arthur thanked Tom for his help. "Sis would have probably missed," he ventured. "You know that girls can't shoot worth a damn."

Howard smiled slightly and said something about Annie Oakley and his own sister being pretty fair markswomen. "Anyway, I saw two of her bullets hit the cobra; they just didn't break any bone. Caroline, I think you really killed it, with that last shot, before the Ghurka took off its head."

"Thank you, Tom. My perishing BROTHER knows quite well that I can shoot. I've managed to beat him most times when we have a contest. He's just razzing me. Who is this Oakley woman? Have you dated her?"

Howard laughed. "No, she was before my time, and she was married, too. But she was a famous trick shot, who gave demonstrations in circuses and the like. She was with Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, and I think she shot for Queen Victoria in London. But Caroline, that was nice shooting, at a fast snake. I'm just glad that we're alright. Thank you, too, Havildar Thapa."

Thapa beamed. "Huzoor, Howard Sahib. I will now bury this evil head, that no one be injured." And he did.

They measured the stretched body of the hamadryad at 12 feet; the head would have added several inches. Suitable Ooh's and Ahhh's were said, and the party finished eating, those who had the fortitude for that in the aftermath of the incident. Howard noted that both Challengers joined him in finishing lunch. Arthur also seemed cheerier, less reserved, than before.

Soon, the Maharajah rose, clapped his hands, and announced that the snake's appearance need cause no apprehension. "It has been feared that this snake's interruption may be a bad omen," he proclaimed, "but in fact, I feel sure that it is the sign of our overcoming evil. Many in India think that killing a snake before a hunt insures success in seeking game. I am among these, and I feel sure that our afternoon will go well. Please, finish dining, and we will again mount the elephants and go in search of a tiger before the sun gets much lower. We do not wish to risk having to follow any wounded tigers at dusk, after all, ha, ha! Even I am not so valiant as to seek that sort of adventure!"

Everyone laughed dutifully, and began to pack up the remains of their repast. Howard looked at Caroline and said, "Hey, Miss Sureshot. I want you on my left as we hunt. Okay? Will you save me if a tiger charges?"

Caroline blushed, and told Tom that she would be pleased to be at his side in any sort of endeavor. Arthur rolled his eyes, a gesture that the couple didn't miss, and Caroline jabbed her brother with an elbow and stuck out her tongue at him. Tom laughed, and said, "I like you two. You're nice people."

Arthur made a show of coughing and shrugged, offering Tom his hand. "Thanks, old man. You seem a solid sort, yourself. If a fellow has to insinuate himself into being with my sister, I suspect that I could do worse."

"Arthur..." warned Caroline, whose face was now deep pink. Then, Tom had taken her in his arms, not caring who saw. She sighed, and leaned into him, her arms around him, their lips meeting until Sir John coughed loudly, and they broke apart, Tom now blushing as much as Caroline.

"Well, someone has certainly found something that they were hunting for today," muttered Diana Hamilton. Wilson grinned, and took her hand.

The mahouts loaded the howdahs and the party formed, the line of ten elephants moving off to the northwest, toward country known to contain a large tiger. Howard and Caroline looked across at one another from their adjacent elephants, and Howard wondered if his cheeks were glowing like hers. Nothing like being obvious about one's feelings, he thought. I think this broad is really getting to me.

As the elephants moved off, two miles ahead, a large male tiger sat in a clump of bamboo, eating the remains of a sambar deer that he had killed the day before.

Now, sated, he left the shelter of the bamboo to lie beneath a tree, his stripes hiding him in the long tan grass.

None of the advancing humans knew that he was there, much closer to the hunters than expected, a different, new, tiger, not the one they sought, and who would soon be driven toward them by a line of "beaters".

Too soon, the hunters would encounter him, but for now, Shere Khan dozed, at peace in the afternoon sun.

As the elephants advanced, the ground caused some to have slightly easier passage than others, and when Tom's mount had pulled a few paces ahead of her own, Caroline Challenger took the opportunity to look him over without him seeing.

She liked what she saw: a lean, tanned man, just over six feet, with dark blond hair cropped in a military cut. His broad shoulders excited her, and she remembered what it was like to be held in those powerful arms. He wasn't bulky, but did have a good physique, and she knew now that his mind was also well above average. She had heard his jokes and subtle teasing, and knew that he was a "punny" man. Arthur liked puns, too, and she found it a familiar form of humor. For all of their sibling rivalry, Caroline had almost worshipped her older brother as they grew up, and the bond was still strong, if more mature. She was also in awe of her father, the great scientist and inventor, and she knew that her mother was only half teasing when she called him, "Genius" as a pet name. Mum loved Father, but she, too, was aware that he was an icon, a legend. He transcended most men and was a giant to his children, if one who held them close and taught them how the world worked and the natural order of things.

Caroline realized that she had been seeking a man who could stand with Father and Arthur as a man among, even above, other men. One who made her heart beat faster when she was near him, one who caused her most private place to grow moist when he looked at her a certain way and reached for her. One who made her take off her knickers and play with herself at night, wanting him with her, kissing her neck as Tom had, playing with her nipples as he reached down her dress before she registered that he had taken that liberty, her then not wishing his fingers to leave. One who she knew made her blush and want him, even as he embraced her in front of superior officers and a native ruler and all their entourage! She flushed, hoping that no one could read her mind. I'm so ashamed, she thought. What if Tom or Arthur knew what I'm thinking? Or, worse, Mum and Father? Well, Mum might understand. From some things that had been said between them over the years, and some snippets that she had heard pass between her parents and between Mum and 'Aunt' Marguerite, she knew that Mum was herself a vital, lusty woman who had probably had thoughts very like her own, when she and Father were younger. Even now, they had an easy familiarity and tender gestures that made it clear to a careful observer that these two had known love as physical as it was spiritual, and so intense that most couples barely even dreamed of what Caroline's parents had done together. She dreamed of such a union for herself, but most of the men she knew were too conventional or too timid or too concerned with their images and their fortunes to be as free of spirit as she was and wanted her man to be. She sensed that in Tom Howard she had found such a man, one to share her interests and her dreams and to ignite a fire in her loins such as no one had done before. That dinosaur on his ranch should be fun to excavate, and she wanted very much to be asked to join him in that and in his other interests. He was American, but they would be able to visit her family a time or three a year, and that might assuage her parents' and her brother's natural reservations about her living abroad. But, what about when Mum died, as she must, someday? Caroline wanted to be the next Baroness Challenger... Maybe it was more important to be Mrs. Thomas Howard and the mother of his children. The next Baroness would be Arthur's wife, anyway, she remembered, not herself.

"Mem'Sahib is well? "queried her mahout. "Mem'Sahib looks flushed. Is the day being too hot? It is being most important to not be suffering the heat stroke."

Caroline smiled back at the man. "I am well, Mahendra. I was just thinking about something."

"Ah," he ventured. "Thinking of the American gentleman, perhaps? The two of you make a very fine twosome. But remember to concentrate soon on the hunt. When Shere Khan comes, he will come fast and furious, and one must be alert. Mem'Sahib Caroline is a good shot, and I wish you good fortune. This is grand shikar and maybe it will be you who slays the striped devil. See? I have my fortunate rabbit's foot that protects me and this elephant and brings us and our hunters much luck." And he brandished his talisman, never reflecting that having it had not brought the bunny who once wore it much luck. Caroline smiled at the irony.

Just then, Tom Howard glanced back and caught her staring at him. He locked eyes with her and winked. Then, he blew her a kiss that made her turn scarlet and smile like a girl who had just been given all her wishes by both Father Christmas and three fairies all at once.

Her brother saw, and hoped that either this was a passing fancy, or that Tom was all the man that Caroline seemed to think he was. I do not want my sister hurt, and I will have a little talk with Maj. Howard and see just what he intends. And, this time, I will insist on some answers. What would Father do? Sometimes, I wish I had his wisdom, and Mum's compassion and perception.

Ahead, a whistle sounded and the maharajah stopped the elephants and dressed the line again, lest no one wander too far ahead and be shot by another member of the party.

Now, one could hear the clatter of pans banging and all sorts of noisemakers in action as a line of "beaters" advanced to drive the tiger that lived here ahead of them, to the "guns" who waited atop their elephants. The maharajah waved his arm, and the line moved forward.

Two hundred yards ahead, the large tiger that had just arrived here and had yet to challenge the resident male for the territory, also heard the drums and cymbals in the distance. He stood and saw the advancing elephants. His eyes narrowed, and he drew back his lips, exposing the long canine teeth that could kill a water buffalo or a sambar deer. If he reached a human when angry, his claws and those fearsome teeth could flay flesh from bone in an instant.

Six hundred yards back, another tiger heard the drums, pots and pans, and cymbals. He rose, stretched, and also drew back his lips, exposing the killing fangs that had ended so many lives of the jungle folk This was an old tiger, and he had been caught in previous "beats", evading those pressing him toward a line of elephants, with men waiting to shoot him as he emerged from cover.

He waited a little longer, until certain that the noise was approaching him, and that he was again being pressured to move off. He grumbled, a low growl that would have terrified any close enough to hear it, for his mood was now foul, and he was being driven off the remains of the Axis deer on which he had been feeding. A tiger does not give up a kill easily.

He loped off, trying to estimate where the ends of the line of beaters were, that he might outflank them, and escape. Alas, one end was curving in toward him, and he could not scale the sheer cliff on the other. This time, the men had chosen their ground well, and he would be trapped if he didn't flee. He increased his pace, looking for any small nullah (ravine) in which he might hide until the din had passed.

In the distance, the humans moved on, their elephants maintaining a steady walk, the hunters with rifles close at hand. They were guided only by the noise from the beaters, knowing that the tiger would move ahead. Only guesswork could tell when he would break from cover, and the maharajah especially wanted this tiger killed. It was not only big, a fine trophy, but was past its prime, and was taking goats and cattle from villagers as often as it killed game. Soon, it might kill a herdsboy, taste human flesh, and realize how easily it could be obtained. Then, it would become a full fledged man-eater.

Howard opened the bolt to his rifle, and checked that the Model 70 .375 was loaded with soft point ammunition. Winchester Silvertip bullets, 300 grain. The factory rear sight had been replaced with a British style sight, with a wide "v" notch for rapid target acquisition. A fold-up leaf had a finer vee, for longer range work, but Howard thought it best to be prepared for a close shot. The cover here was heavy in most places, and the shot would probably come within 60 yards. There might not be time for a second shot, and lives might depend on his marksmanship. He tried to breathe easily, but the stress was there, as it must be in such an enterprise.

He wiped sweaty palms on his trousers, checked that his Smith & Wesson was fully loaded, and returned the .45 to its holster. If the cat got onto the elephant, he might be able to shoot it in the head with the handgun, if his rifle malfunctioned. Not that a Model 70 Winchester was likely to malfunction... Howard was among those who thought that it was the best mass production hunting rifle yet made. In the optional Super Grade, which he had, it was also especially nice looking. Howard liked his guns to be like his women: easy on the eye and nice to handle.

Caroline Challenger noticed that he drew his knife and tested the edge, nodded to himself, and sheathed the blade. Good Lord, what drama, she thought. The Americans must believe what they see in jungle movies. She personally doubted that Tarzan would fare too well against a lion or tiger, armed with his trusty knife...although she had read about a South African game ranger named Harry Wolhuter, who had in fact stabbed a lion in the heart and saved himself, as he was being dragged off to be the lion's dinner. Exceptional things happen, but she hoped that they would have no need to stab any tigers, on this particular day. Being clawed by one would totally ruin her complexion, she thought, and laughed to herself. Still, Tom looked so fine and so male and so adventurous, checking his weapons...

To her left, Diana Hamilton and John Wilson also saw Howard manipulating his firearms and the knife, and looked at one another and laughed.

"Americans!" snorted Wilson. "They do love their guns, and it seems their knives. I wonder if our Texan has scalped any of those Comanches they have."

"I think it's the Comanches who did the scalping, for the most part," she replied, grinning. "But those Texans have survived the Indians and the Mexicans, and cattle rustlers. I suppose that this one will manage a tiger. He seems to have done well enough against the Japanese, and their fighters are very formidable. I've heard you chaps say so!" She looked humorously at Wilson, enjoying his discomfort and jealousy.

"Oh, come on, Johnny!" she teased. "Do let it go. We've lost. He wants her and she wants him, almost as if they were waving banners saying, 'We want to fuck like the proverbial minks'! I think it may even be true love, whatever that really is. Let's make up for it by 'doing' one another tonight. You weren't half bad in that garden last night, and I can slip you into my room when everyone else has retired this evening. You may find that I'm just as much fun as that blonde adventuress. Want to get half looped at dinner and see where it leads?" She slid her tongue around her lips lasciviously, and Wilson felt his heart accelerate and something stirred lower down on his body.

"Suits," he admitted, looking at the brunette aristocrat. "You are actually at least as presentable as Caroline, and you're probably more fun, too. Certainly less stuck up, and more accessible. You're even fun to talk to, Diana. Don't worry: you won't even have to get me drunk. Your splendid body is all the intoxication that I need, my beauty. In fact, I quite look forward to ravishing you! This day has just improved beyond what I thought it could!" He laughed.

"Oh, Johnny!" she gushed sarcastically, "You say the sweetest things! I'm so bloody excited to think that you consider me as 'presentable' as Miss Challenger, Her Blondeness! Don't worry: brunettes truly deliver what blondes just give up in fantasy visions."

"I do like you, Diana", Wilson said, more seriously. He was glad that they shared this howdah. "You've grown on me, I must say. It won't be all lust when I screw your brains out tonight. I may even linger and talk to you. That's rather fun, actually." And he took her hand in his, and they looked at each other and glowed.

Arthur Challenger noticed, and smiled to himself. Well, that was one less problem he had. Now, his sister was down to one local suitor, and he might really be serious about the lady. He wondered what Tom and Caroline's children might look like, and whether he could have them visit him in England, and play the uncle role with them...I mean for them to know what is is to be the descendants of George, Baron Challenger, and of our illustrious history, not just the spawn of Yankee revolutionaries. They need to be taught the elements of class and what it means to be half Challenger. Then, it struck him that he might be worrying about something that might never happen. That was odd, for he realized next that he rather looked forward to being an uncle, and Tom did seem suitable brother-in-law material. I owe that man my life, he mused. I suppose that Sis might be a reasonable payback. He laughed. Caroline would kill me for that thought...

Then, all started, and reached for their guns. The senior mahout had howled, "Bagh!" This was the Hindi word for "big cat", not Kipling's Shere Khan term of the Mowgli stories, but the sound of it chilled the blood. The sight of the big cat coming toward them at a purposeful walk almost froze that body fluid

The big male tiger walked a little stiffly, with evident purpose. He sent an unmistakable message: I am here, I am unhappy, and anyone who doesn't want to die today had better get out of the way and let me pass!

Howard felt his chest lock in a cold vise. He had felt fear before, and this was it, again. Fear as bad as he'd experienced when that Focke-Wulf -190 had shot the bejabbers out of his Thunderbolt over Alsace, and as bad as what he'd recently known when he'd had to bail out of his stricken plane over the Burmese jungle.

But he had dealt with fear; he had always conquered it. He would now. He lifted the Winchester and pushed the safety lever forward, to "off" and balanced the big .375 Magnum between his hands, ready to bring it up for an instinctive shot, if need be.

He flicked a glance to his left, to the next elephant. Caroline was shaking, but she had her rifle up, ready to shoulder it as the tiger came on. She looked directly into his eyes, and Tom smiled back encouragingly. She colored, and then mouthed a kiss his way.

Tom grinned and turned back to the approaching cat.

"This tiger is not the one we expected," exclaimed the Maharajah. "This one is bigger, a true trophy, and vigorous. Howard Sahib, you saved my son's life. Do you wish the honor of taking this tiger? It will also be your first. Shoot when he is within about one hundred yards, in the lower chest. Place your shot well, that no one need die this day."

"Highness, I thank you for this honor, "Tom said, "But shouldn't Sir John shoot first? He is the senior officer present."

"The devil with that, Major! Your tiger, lad! I've shot a dozen, and you have earned this chance that may be your only one to shoot Old Stripes. Have a go at him!" The Air Vice Marshal was generous and gentlemanly, and he genuinely admired Howard's courage in the air.

"Caroline, back me up. If I don't kill cleanly, put in a shot!" Howard called to the Challenger beauty.

"Yes, Tom, but hurry: he's getting too close. We shall have him on an elephant if you don't fire! "she replied, raising her .275 Rigby.

Tom lifted the butt of the .375 into his shoulder socket, and began tracking the cat through the sights. He was on the verge of firing when the animal stopped and gave vent to his displeasure.

"AAAROUGHHHH!" roared Shere Khan, and the air shook with the terrible sound. Tom was momentarily rattled, then steadied and squeezed the trigger on the Model 70 as the ground trembled to a second roar.

"BLAM!" The rifle drove into his shoulder, and Howard rode the recoil, quickly lifting the bolt handle and cycling the action, feeding in another long cartridge. He strived to see the tiger again in his sights. If he had missed or wounded...

The tiger flinched and rolled, but was up again at once, and charging now. A second "BLAM!" resounded over the jungle, as Wilson's .450/.400 double rifle fired. The tiger was jarred by the 400 grain bullet's impact, but came on, and Wilson's second shot missed. Howard saw it throw up a cloud of dust to the animal's left.

The big cat was within 30 yards as Tom got a second cartridge chambered, and fired. As he pressed the trigger, he heard Caroline and Arthur shoot together, and the tiger, slammed by all three bullets, flipped and lay still.

Tom quickly worked the bolt, watching the fallen animal, and saw the Challengers also reloading. One didn't take chances with a wounded tiger, and they were unsure whether this one was spent, or just wounded and stunned.

After a moment, the elephants eased closer, and mahouts threw stones at the beast, receiving no reaction. Finally, Tom and Arthur, with Piet Marais, got down and approached the tiger, rifles at the ready.

Assured that it was dead, they put their rifles on safety, and posed with the fallen cat. Tom insisted that Caroline join him in a photo, and she did, blushing amid teasing from those who had earlier enjoyed the sight of her and the American pilot embracing and kissing in public. She looked at the cameras, and saw Diana make an obscene gesture toward her, smiling as she did so. Caroline managed to keep a straight face, but resolved to think of something to avenge this insult from her sarcastic, elitist rival. Caroline knew perfectly well that Diana's gesture was one of jealousy at both Caroline's having drawn Tom's affection and at seeing her posing with a tiger that Diana wished that she and John Wilson could claim.

It was decided that the fatal shots were probably fired by Tom Howard (low in the chest, taking out the heart) and by the Challenger siblings having hit almost atop Tom's bullets and with one breaking the animals' right shoulder. Wilson's bullet was probably one that broke a forearm, tumbling the cat, but letting it come on in rage. Wilson was in a bit of a rage, himself, angry at missing. He just managed to control his temper as he joined the others in congratulating Howard and the Challengers on a fine kill. But Tom and Arthur didn't miss the strained look on his face as he forced himself to be gracious. Tom knew that he had made an enemy, and he would need to keep an eye on Wilson, if he drank much later that day.

Finally, photos taken and rifles unloaded, the group turned to hoisting the tiger onto an elephant trained to tolerate carrying a dead cat. Most elephants shied from this, regarding tigers as a natural enemy not to be allowed to reach their backs.

Tom was helping Caroline up onto her elephant when he heard a shout that he would remember for the rest of his life.

"Shere, Sahibs! Shere! A tiger comes!" This from the senior mahout, who had looked up just in time to see a second tiger bolt from cover and charge directly at the hunters. As he came, the tiger roared his fury, and the sight of him coming, ears laid back and mouth open, showing the big teeth, was enough to unnerve anyone.

Tom seized his rifle from a servant, but even as he clawed desperately for ammunition in his pocket, he knew that this tiger would reach them before he could load the .375 Magnum. Someone was going to get hurt today, badly!

As he fumbled three cartridges from his pocket and began ramming them into the Winchester's magazine, Howard saw the tiger catch a fleeing mahout. It mauled him briefly, and then with one awful bite, snapped off the unfortunate man's head, swatting it aside as the body jerked spasmodically. Then, the big cat was onto a running man, a servant of the Maharajah. The tiger struck him down and began savaging him. Caroline lifted her .275 Rigby, and put a bullet into the cat's right shoulder, causing it to collapse momentarily. Diana fired her over-and-under Merkel, the shotgun's pellets, meant for birds, not penetrating enough to do any damage, save that one eye was blinded, making the wounded beast even more enraged.

Instantly, it rose and Wilson missed it twice with his double .450/.400 and then it was onto his elephant. It struck off the terrified mahout with one bat of a paw, and was onto Wilson, who was trying to reload. Diana vaulted out of the howdah, scrabbling at the rearing elephant's rough hide for a hand grasp as she fell to the ground. Mercifully, the rearing elephant's posture and her momentary clutch at its hide saved her from any real damage in the short fall. Phillip Smythe ran over, grabbed her, and pulled her clear of the action.

Wilson's screams were pitiful to hear as the tiger tore into him.

Howard was at too low an angle to shoot, and yelled for Caroline to fire.

Caroline was afraid of hitting Wilson if she shot at the beast's head, so aimed for its spine. The bullet went low, but did cause the tiger to collapse for an instant. Piet Marais called across for her to cease fire, and extended his right arm, the hand holding a Luger. As the tiger's head appeared above the howdah, Marais fired two quick shots into its head, one entering via the nose and smashing the cerebral cortex. The huge, snarling head dropped at once, an out flung paw scratching Marais's arm as the tiger died.

Arthur Challenger rode over and poked the tiger with the muzzle of his .318, confirming that it was indeed dead.

Ropes were laboriously gotten under the tiger, lifting it enough to extract Wilson's torn body, and he was lowered to the ground and placed on a blanket.

Wilson and the injured royal servant were laid out, side-by-side, poor Indian and well born Englishman. Their clothes were cut off, and water was rapidly boiled to wash their wounds. The Maharajah's doctor attended the men, Caroline telling him that he should wash out the wounds with red wine when they returned to the palace. "My parents found it very effective in treating injuries they encountered in wild areas," she explained. "A Roman physician named Galen wrote that wine killed infection and saved gladiators whom he treated in the arenas. Please try that."

The doctor, preoccupied, nodded and tried to stop the bleeding.

Diana Hamilton came over and knelt by Wilson. She took his hand, and squeezed it briefly, glad to find that he returned the pressure. Howard took his pulse from the other wrist, and noted that it was thready, Wilson having lost much blood.

Diana looked up at Caroline and said, "Miss Challenger, I owe you an apology for a sign that I made earlier today. It was very unladylike of me; please forgive me. You were a real heroine just now, and may have saved Johnny. How is he? Will he live?"

Howard told her that he had seen men injured worse in combat survive, and pointed out that his base had a supply of penicillin, which could be flown over, if the runways were repaired by now. Wounds from big cat bites and clawings were notorious for becoming infected, from the rotting meat of their prey on the teeth and under the claws.

"Thank you, Major, you have been very decent about the way that Johnny and I have snubbed you and Miss Challenger. I am so sorry. I've been an absolute bitch." She sniffled, and wiped away tears.

Smythe patted her on the shoulder and led her away a few feet to give the doctor and a medical orderly room to work on Wilson and the mauled servant. Marais sat nearby, his shirt off, a second medical orderly cleaning his arm. The Challengers and Howard congratulated the South African on his cool courage and his marksmanship with the German pistol then withdrew and talked quietly until the senior officers and the Maharajah approached.

In the background, they heard Diana telling Wilson that she did love him, and to please not die. Her sobs caught Howard's chest and he tried to maintain a brave front. He noticed that the Challengers felt the same way, and Caroline reached out and took her brother by one hand and held Tom's hand in her other

Back at the palace, the injured men were taken to a room where their wounds were better dressed and proper stitches taken. In addition to the Maharajah's doctor, the flight surgeon from Ancestor base was there, and assured that all possible was done.

At Caroline's entreaty, the doctor cleansed the wounds with red wine, although he was rather dubious that it would make a great deal of difference. Still, she was a noted adventurer into wild places, and her brother was his commander... (At the time, they had no idea that the wine contained not just alcohol, but had antibiotic properties.)

That evening, with the tiger skins cleaned and defleshed and being prepared for taxidermy, Howard, the Challengers, and Phillip Smythe took a break, washing up for dinner and congratulating one another that the events of that fateful hunt had gone as well as they had. Diana Hamilton stayed by Wilson's side, until the doctor bade her leave to eat. Kirstin Mulder joined the others, standing close to Smythe, who she seemed to know well, thought Tom.

Dinner was delicious, but the mood was somber, and the Air Vice-Marshal gave a special prayer that the injured men would recover.  
>Caroline sat on Tom's right, and he felt her take his hand during the prayer. She squeezed it as the prayer ended and looked at him with troubled eyes.<p>

"Tom, we did all that we could. Tell me that. I have to know that what happened to John Wilson and that Indian chap was Fate, beyond our ability to intervene."

"Caroline, you just said all that I can. You seem to understand perfectly. If I was at fault, it is for unloading my rifle, thinking that danger was past. I learned a lesson: I'm never going to be without a loaded rifle in similar circumstances. Your shooting helped a lot, I'm sure. Even Diana knows that; she thanked you for your coolness and good aim. F/Lt. Marais really saved the day, what could be saved. Say, Piet: where did you come by that Luger? I have one that I left at home when I was on leave." Maybe he could change the painful subject.

Marais (pronounced as Mah-RAY-uh, being of French origin) explained that he'd bought the gun from an infantryman who'd found it on a dead German lying near a ruined tank during the Battle of El Alamein. "I like the penetration of its bullet over that of the service .38, and it's a nice souvenir," he explained. "It fits the hand so well, and shoots as well as I can. You know the legend of Boer marksmanship, I hope." His eyes twinkled before he grimaced as he bumped his bandaged arm against the table. His wound, too, had been washed out with wine, and packed with honey under the dressing.

Diana came in and was seated, and no more banter ensued as the group asked her how Wilson was faring.

"He has a fever that worries the doctor but the wounds aren't puffing up and looking as ghastly as expected. The doc grudgingly conceded that Caroline was right about the wine. Thank you, Miss Challenger. Major, the doctor asked that you get that penicillin that you mentioned. He said that it can make all the difference in the world."

Howard nodded, telling her that he'd already talked to his colonel, and that a small aircraft should arrive soon after dawn. "Alas, it will also take me back to my own base, and I want to thank Your Highness and all here for a wonderful time, apart from the damage that second tiger did. Caroline, I asked my boss if you could sell those books at our base, too, and he was enthusiastic. The men will love them, and it would be a serious boost to morale if they got to see a beautiful woman. I don't suppose that you can sing, too? We haven't had a USO troupe in there yet."

Caroline laughed. "I sing badly even by bathtub standards, but if transport can be provided, I'm in no rush to go home. Astrid, Kirstin, Diana? Will you girls join me in selling books and entertaining the Yanks? They are mostly nice chaps, and they tend to have ice cream and chocolate bars. Not that we'd be going for tangible rewards, of course. Strictly to bolster Allied spirits..."

All enjoyed that, and Arthur pointed out that Oxford University Press was his mother's publisher. They had Indian offices, so more books could be sent out on short notice. He also had three jungle movies that he could loan, for viewing by the Americans.

So it was arranged, and it was with a joyful heart that Tom kissed Caroline good-bye as he headed out to the Stinson L-5 the next morning, the pilot having enjoyed a sumptuous breakfast with the others. During the night, they had again met in the garden, this time with Arthur contenting himself to take Astrid out on the other side of the palace and forcing himself not to wonder what his sister and her new male companion were doing. He mostly succeeded, Astrid taking his mind off much else other than the two of them and the lovely weather and the full moon.

During the night, the Indian retainer died, but John Wilson hung on, the Maharajah having had a couch for Diana moved into the room. Someone commented that this was, "highly irregular, as this couple isn't even married", but the Air Vice-Marshal pointed out that irregular measures would be condoned in this case, if it would help to save his trusted, if crabby, aide-de-camp. Privately, Sir John even hoped that Wilson's personality might also improve if he and Diana Hamilton continued to see one another.

The best part of leaving, Tom thought, was that the Maharajah had insisted on presenting him with the Winchester .375 Magnum that he had used on the hunt. If the girl was lost for the moment, a fine rifle was gained. And he had memories to last and thrill him for a lifetime!

CHAPTER 8

The next two weeks were routine at his base, after Tom had reported to Col. Townsend and briefed him on his experiences after being shot down. An official report was made, and Townsend congratulated Howard on his achievements, telling him that enough first hand accounts had been received about his air escapades that he was being nominated for the Medal of Honor. Tom was astounded, and made humble by the news, but didn't expect to see much come of this. Perhaps, he might receive a lesser award, and he rather hoped for that. It would be something to show his grandchildren someday, many years hence...if he managed to survive the war!

He went to see Frank Stevens in the infirmary, and found Stevens in good spirits. He had been nominated for the Distinguished Service Cross, himself, and was chipper. He and other injured officers clustered around as Howard told of the fierce battle in the sky and of the Maharajah's wonderful, almost mythical, palace, the beautiful women whom he'd met, and of the fateful tiger hunt.

"If you guys don't believe me," he cautioned, "I have that .375 rifle and the hide of one tiger is being flown in to me when it's treated."

On the flight line, his crew chief and the men who maintained his aircraft showed him a new P-47D-30 with the bubble canopy and told him that he could choose either it or one of the several new Mustangs that had been flown in as soon as the main runways were operable again after the Jap attack.

Howard thought carefully, even taking one of the Mustangs up and enjoying its maneuverability and fuel efficiency. But he distrusted the ammo feed arrangement on the four .50 caliber machineguns and was worried about how easily the exposed radiator could be hit, knocking the plane down. The liquid cooled engine, like the Rolls-Royce Merlin on the Spitfire, was another vulnerable area. The radial engine on the Thunderbolt was tougher, and the whole plane was stronger, even in a thunderstorm. He chose the Thunderbolt.

Over the next two weeks, he led fighter sweeps that hit a few ground targets, and escorted five bomber missions, the B-25's now joined by a squadron of big B-24 heavy bombers. Only once did they see enemy fighters, out to attack a formation of B-24's. Howard and his companions made short work of the Tonys they intercepted; using their higher speed and the sophisticated rolls that Tom had taught his pilots to offset the higher maneuverability of the Japanese planes. They shot down six Tonys for the loss of one P-47.

When he had spare time, Tom Howard found his thoughts often turning to Caroline Challenger and to his new friends at RAF Base Ancestor and the palace. Especially, to Caroline...He found himself daydreaming about her, even in flight, and shook his head to rid himself of the lusty thoughts that intruded, lest they impede his concentration while flying. But, at night, in his bed, Caroline came to him, creeping in at the edge of fading consciousness, rousing his passion, making him tumescent with the memory of her lips, her perfume, and the feel of her swollen nipples. He was surprised to find himself also missing her as much in other regards as he did sexually, and that alone was a powerful reminder of her. That chick has really gotten her hooks into me, he reflected, and he seriously began thinking of what it would be like to marry her. Would her distinguished family object? He got along well enough with Arthur, once that fellow had seemingly shelved his sense of brotherly duty to shield his little sister from the advances of men who sought her substantial charms.

Finally, the day came when his crew chief rapped on the door of his hut and exclaimed, "Major, you better get out here! A C-47 just landed with some really hot babes, and one of them is asking for you. She says her name is Caroline, and that you'd know her. Something about selling some books that her mother wrote. The guys are all over her, so you'd better get to the flight line right away, Sir!"

Tom grabbed his pistol belt and cap, ran out to his Jeep, and drove to the flight line. Sure enough, there was an RAF Dakota (C-47, in US use) with a group of British officers and several delectable ladies, all of whom he knew!

Col. Townsend and an escort of military police were pulling up, and Howard intervened to sort things out. After warm greetings, Howard introduced Phillip Smythe and Piet Marais and their crew to the Americans and ordered the men to move back a respectable distance from Astrid, Caroline, Kirstin, and Diana, all of whom were being besieged by offers of candy bars and Coca-Colas, regarded with wide-eyed stares from men who had been too long without access to Western women. The girls took it well, Kirstin commenting dryly that she had always wondered what it might feel like to be worshipped. Now, she knew. Caroline snickered, and embraced Tom, right in front of everyone. This brought cheers with applause, and shouts of, "Me next, Major!"

The senior officers eventually got matters under control, with the MP's forming a line between the visitors and their ardent admirers. Arrangements were made for quarters and the ladies and the pilots were invited to the officers' club for refreshment. Caroline's books were taken to the club in a truck with an MP escort.

Tom and Caroline sat together and had eyes only for one another, although Tom tried to share his attention with the others. He noticed that Kirstin was seated next to Piet, and that she seemed to like the South African better than he'd realized. Indeed, it turned out that the couple had been seeing one another often since Marais had shot the tiger, and become something of a local hero. He could also communicate with Kirstin and Astrid in Afrikaans, of course, similar to Dutch, which pleased and amused the women.

Tom got Marais to take out his Luger and show it to the officers, explaining that with this 9mm pistol, he had killed a very dangerous tiger. This produced a suitable reaction, and Marais became the center of attention for awhile. They saw a bundle being brought in, and had it opened, and the hide of Tom's tiger was unrolled and displayed for all to see and caress. Tom would remember the looks on his men's faces for years. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be a movie star.

After a delightful dinner in which the cook proudly showed capabilities beyond what any of the officers suspected that he had, Caroline sold the books in a hanger, with all ranks free to browse them, talk to the ladies, and enjoy Cokes, coffee, and tea. Astrid and Diana surprised everyone by getting onto an improvised stage and singing popular British and American songs, with the base's band in musical attendance. Then, the hanger was darkened, and Caroline and a technician showed the jungle movies, as Caroline narrated what was onscreen. The films showed her, her brother, and their parents, with various wild tribesmen and wilder animals, some being among the first good filmed footage of giraffes, antelope, lions, etc. in natural settings. She and Arthur appeared with elephants and a big leopard that Caroline had shot, and the men were audibly impressed. Fortunately, most of the comments weren't too ribald, although Tom did hear one soldier exclaim, "Man, Tarzan ain't got nothin' on this babe! And Jane don't look half as good, either!" That drew laughter, including some from Caroline, herself.

Finally, everything settled down for the night, and Tom and Caroline went back to the club, where they found a quiet corner, shooing away admirers as tactfully as they could, until the men realized that the two knew one another, and wanted privacy.

"I've missed you, lady," Tom admitted. "But not too much. I doubt that I've thought of you more than ten times an hour."

Caroline had the grace and modesty to blush, and then she took his hand and held it. "Likewise, as you people say," she agreed. "I thought that I should go mad wanting to be with you, Tom. I was hoping that I could control my feelings after you left, and that I would present myself here because I said that I'd come, and to sell the books. It really is for a good cause. But when I tried, I couldn't get you out of my mind. Arthur knows; I KNOW he knows. He's razzed me about it, as have the girls. Oh, Tom: what shall we do? I must return to England next week, and I feel as if I can't be without you. Will you perhaps want to come see me someday? I've felt more in tune with you, more comfortable with you, than with any other man that I've known, ever. I feel incomplete without you. From what I've heard about Texas girls, they're all beautiful and you'll no doubt go home and forget me. I should hate that!" And she did look miserable, thought Tom Howard.

He swallowed a gulp of Scotch, feeling giddy and almost outside himself.

"Caroline, I've been thinking a lot about you ever since we parted. We haven't had all that long to get to know one another, but you knocked me off my feet. I haven't been myself since we met. This war has affected how things have to be done. It tears people apart, who might otherwise want to get much better acquainted before they express deep feelings for one another. But that tiger hunt and talking to you in the Maharajah's garden have let me get a good feel for you."

"Ha! "she jested, "You mean, you got a good feel OF me!" She blushed again, and Tom thought how the flush of color complimented her pink dress, cut low enough that he could see the bases of her breasts if she leaned well forward.

"Yeah, I liked feeling OF you, too," he admitted. "In fact, I liked that a LOT! But, I have also thought a great deal about other aspects of you. How we talk with such ease, our similar interests, that sort of thing. I like the way that you laugh, and the things that you do that make me laugh. I like the smell of you, and of whatever that citrus scented perfume is. Stop blushing: I love that smell. I love the way that your hand fits in mine. I love the way you talk. Your accent is as memorable as the rest of you."

"I like things about you, too, Tom," she said. "You mentioned smell, which embarrasses me, but I can recall the way you smell after a hard day in the sun on elephant back, and the way you smell in more intimate circumstances. Some of the primitive peoples whom I've met in my travels believe that the way that a man and a woman smell to one another tells how they'll get along. Isn't that hilarious? And I like the way that you stood your ground when those tigers came for us. By the way, John Wilson will live. He's much better, thanks to that penicillin. Diana is supposed to thank you for him. I imagine that she's just been too busy. They're engaged now, by the way. I hope they'll improve one another. They're all right in small doses, already. But I've seen in you a man whom I'll never forget. It is going to be very hard indeed to find another who has the effect on me that you have. Do you think we might see one another again? The Maharajah is giving you and Arthur some 'gong', the Tiger Cross of Rammalapur, soon. But after that ceremony, I have to return home. Please let me take pictures of you tomorrow before I leave. I want to remember you forever. Can you possibly think of visiting me after the war? You said that you were well off, financially, that you could travel. We could maybe shoot grouse next August, or something, or fish for salmon on a river to which I have access."

"Yes, I'll try to join you in Britain as soon as the war allows. It will end in a year or so anyway, I think. But, Caroline, may I ask you a rather personal question? It's important to me. You needn't answer right away, but I do want you to think about something." He had decided to make a decision toward which he had felt propelled since he had met this girl, and the time was as good now as ever. There might not be another time, if he didn't ask...

"I can't imagine that you would ask me anything that I wouldn't answer, Tom. But if I need time, certainly, I'll think first. What's so important?" She motioned a steward away, looking back at Howard curiously.

He took a deep breath and asked, "Caroline Marguerite Nicole Challenger, will you marry me? I haven't been able to think of anything else for days. Will you at least consider it? Do you think that your family could tolerate me? We can visit them a few times a year; you know that I've mentioned that. I know that we haven't known one another long, but I think I know who and what you are, and you're what and who I want in a wife. Will you think about this?"

She sat stunned for a moment, then gushed, "Oh, Tom! Are you serious? I know that you love jokes, but I can't tease about this. It's too close to me, too real. Tell me the truth: are you in earnest?"

"Caroline, I have never been more serious in my life. I want you for my wife. I know this came on short notice, but with Fate what it is, our circumstances..."

She realized how he had phrased the proposal, chuckled, and said, "Well, you did warn me that it would be a rather personal question. That sounds like you, making light of something that's really quite profound. I have to be sure that you mean this. Can we step outside, somewhere more private? I'm done with my drink, and you are, too. This room just got too small for us. I need air; I need to concentrate." She felt as if she was hyperventilating, and Mr. Dewar's amber liquid wasn't helping her to think clearly. Thankfully, she had had only two whiskies.

They left, saying hello to squadron mates who pressed close, trying to meet Caroline, or to tell Tom that they'd heard about his nomination for the Medal of Honor or about his tiger.

They got into his Jeep, and Tom drove off into the soft, humid night, the clicking and clacking of insects serenading them. Finally, he found a dark spot and pulled off the road, hoping that no snakes or other threats were lurking in the shadows.

They got out and stood, holding hands, Caroline's back against the rear of the Jeep, Tom facing her, their fronts touching. Tom felt the soft press of her breasts through the thin gown and she moved close and ground her body against his erection. Their lips met, and they trembled, aware that this was more than lust, each afraid of what was happening; yet dreading that it might be interrupted.

"Oh, baby! I love you so much! And it isn't just physical. I know that; I've thought all about it, about all aspects of you. Caroline, you rouse my heart and my soul as much as you rouse what you're moving against just now, thank you very much, and please don't stop. But we also have like spirits. We think the same, insofar as a man and a woman can. I know that you'd love it where I live, and I already love England. I can't wait to meet your parents. They seem half real to me, just from reading your mom's books and seeing their pictures. I want you beside me when I excavate that dinosaur that I mentioned. Please think of how it can be for us. I know it's too soon to be asking this, but I have to know how you feel. I think we're absolutely right for each other, and I don't want to risk some other fellow meeting you and sweeping you off your feet before I can ask for your hand."

"Don't be concerned, Tom," she told him. "I realize the need for urgency. We can't know what may happen next. Someone said that he'd been to see Gen. Slim, and that he is fighting a new Japanese offensive that looks to get worse. It may be their last try to take India. You and Arthur must do all that you can to stop that. I know that both of you will. But I'm afraid for you. I don't want to lose you, either to some Jap pilot or to some floozy who looks good to you through a whisky glass a couple of months down the road, after I've left."

"So, where does that leave us? Caroline, I think we should marry. I'm pretty sure that the Maharajah can arrange for me to buy a ring worthy of you. He probably owns stones that can be mounted to our wishes. I can afford something nice, something that you can wear with pride. It will at least show your parents that I'm serious. Do you want to marry here, or wait until later, when I can maybe get transferred to Britain? Or, we can marry in Texas. I know that my family would love you. I still have leave time coming, although I may not be able to take it until this new offensive is broken."

"You are getting right along, Fast Worker," she smiled. "I haven't even said that I'll marry you."

"Well, then, hurry up and say it," he pleaded. "I want to introduce you as my fiancée when we get back. Not only will that make me feel ten feet tall, it will entitle me to tell other guys to keep their distance." He looked into her eyes, noting the twinkle there, in the blue depths that he found so enchanting.

"Oh, very well," she teased. "I will marry you. I'd probably better, if only to save my reputation after everyone sees us driving back from this dark place that you've taken us. Goodness knows what they'll think. Actually, I know jolly well what they'll think! If I'm not engaged by the time that my brother hears about this, I'll get an earful from him. And, you don't have to get a big stone in a golden ring for me if that will take much time. I'll wear your ring even it's just brass, made by some coolie who can turn one out fast. So, your answer is yes, I will definitely marry you. I want to discuss the place and time with my family, but I will not discuss with them or anyone else the commitment: I will marry you, come Hell or high water, or the whole damned Imperial Japanese Empire! Oh, Tom! Am I glowing? You've just made me the happiest girl on Earth tonight. I swear that I will be the best wife that anyone can be, and then some, and the mother that you'd want for our children. Now, kiss me, Darling. I want to feel your lips on mine. And feel free to touch anything else that might grab your fancy. Tonight, you may as well really see what my knickers feel like. You looked so frustrated and downcast when I pulled your hand from under my skirt the last time that you tried that." She giggled, and snuggled impossibly closer, reaching for his mouth with hers.

And so, the two passed the next hour and a bit, seen only by an owl or two that flew over, looking for some unlucky rodent that might qualify as a meal if it didn't run down a hole in time.

When Howard returned to the occupied area of the base, a Jeep with two MP's in it flagged him down. The sergeant in the passenger seat said, "Sir, the colonel is looking for you, and he's unhappy. The lady's friends are afraid that she's missing. You'd better beat feet over to his office and tell them that you've got her."

Howard thanked them and steered for the command center. He noticed that Caroline was blushing, and suspected that he was, too. This might take some serious explaining.

When he arrived, the colonel was perturbed. "Major Howard, where have you been? I have men searching this base for you and this woman. Her friends have been very concerned. I assume that you can explain yourself, as an officer and a gentleman?"

"Yes, Colonel. My fiancée and I have just been discussing our wedding plans. We didn't realize that anyone was missing us."

"Howard, that isn't funny. Miss Challenger, please brush your hair. It looks mussed. I don't want a scandal here. I assume that you two were just having a ah, social interaction, and that everything is all right?"

"Colonel," answered Caroline, "Tom wasn't trying to be funny. We really were discussing wedding plans. Among other things, this accounts for my apparently disheveled appearance. Do I look awfully mussed?" She grinned, amused by Col. Townsend's agitation. Clearly, he was afraid that the British would complain to higher authority over improprieties. She knew her friends well enough to know that once she talked to them, nothing official would be said, In fact, they would probably laugh about the incident. Maybe even Arthur would, and he would probably get to hear of it...

The other visitors saw her and ran over, and the couple announced their engagement. Everyone broke out in cheers and applause. Col. Townsend looked mollified, but reminded Howard that dependents weren't allowed in this war zone, and asked just when this wedding was scheduled. Told that Caroline would have to consult with her parents -the colonel was visibly impressed when he heard that her father was a baron- he grudgingly allowed that perhaps if Howard took leave later to be married and she stayed in England until the war was over, he would extend his own congratulations.

"Anyway, Tom, this came for you," said Townsend and handed the other officer a buff colored envelope with official British lettering, including the O.H.M.S. stamp. Asked what that meant, Smythe explained, "It stands for On His Majesty's Service, Sir. It's from our base, and is an official communication."

Tom opened the envelope, read the enclosed letter, and asked for quiet. "You guys will want to know this. It says here that Arthur and I are to report to the Maharajah's palace in two days to receive the Order of the Tiger Cross from the State of Rammalapur. Following the ceremony, which will require dress uniform, there will be a reception. There's a personal note here, too, from Arthur. Says that if I ask nicely, he may let me fly a Spitfire again, and that maybe this time, we won't have to shoot our way back to base!" He laughed, as did the others.

Things quieted down, and Caroline kissed Tom good night in front of all, to more cheers. Then she went off to the visitors' quarters, besieged by questions and hugs from the other ladies. Tom talked briefly with his commander and others and went to his room, feeling that this had been quite a day.

He took off his revolver and cap, got out a bottle of Dewar's scotch, and poured some into a glass. He added a jigger of water and happily sipped. Boy, he thought, I have something to drink to, tonight. I'm think I'm scared silly. I was a pretty happy guy as a bachelor, and it certainly allowed me a lot of recreational latitude with the ladies! But I'm also exhilarated, to use the right word, over being engaged. I guess I have to "go" someday, and Caroline is a real catch. I just hope that her parents don't get upset. Her old man looked really formidable in those pictures in the books, and the guy is a billionaire, and then some, from what I've heard. I hope he doesn't think I want Caroline for the money. She's priceless, herself, although I am uneasy marrying a woman who probably has more in the bank than I do, not that I'm exactly a pauper, myself. He lifted the glass. Well, here's to marriage. I hope the Japs shoot lousy and I get to experience it.

CHAPTER NINE

Howard enjoyed the return to the palace and to Ancestor base, where he now had several friends, some of whom he thought would be in his life for many years. He did get to fly a Spitfire again, and the grace and manueverability made him rethink whether he wanted to exchange his heavy Thunderbolt for a Mustang. The livlier P-51 was a dream to fly, and once the "D" models arrived, with their six guns and an improved ammo feed system, not to mention the bubble canopy, he might switch over, except for known ground support missions, where the stronger P-47 would give him added confidence. The P-47 was simply a larger, more rugged plane, and getting hit by ground fire while strafing or firing rockets was the most common way for a fighter pilot to get shot down. The intensity of flak and small arms fire on such missions was often a daunting thing for a pilot to face!

He was able to ask the maharajah for suggestions about a ring, and that worthy oriental gentleman insisted on taking him and Caroline into his treasure chambers and showing them stones that plundered one's breath with their beauty. Tom and his betrothed chose an emerald with diamonds surrounding it and arranged to have it mounted in platinum, with a matching wedding ring to be given later. Tom had worried somewhat over the price, and asked the ruler whether he'd take a check drawn on a bank in Texas.

The maharajah laughed, and reminded the couple that his son was alive and on the way to being well again, thanks to Tom Howard and the Supermarine company's fantastic fighter aircraft, and told them that he would neither require nor accept payment for the rings. When Tom protested that a man should buy his bride's rings, the maharajah said that the price had already been paid...in Japanese blood, and in courage. Caroline agreed and told Tom to shut up and be gracious. But she kissed him and told the native leader that she was profoundly grateful for his generous offer, and that she would not attach any resentment if Tom accepted the largesse. That deal was done, then, and Tom picked up the newly made rings the next afternoon. He placed the elegant engagement ring on Caroline's finger, kissed her, and then led her in to greet her brother and their friends with the women all crowding around and sighing over how beautiful and valuable the ring was.

"It had to be beautiful and valuable, " Tom told them. "I wanted it to complement Caroline, who is lovely, and a pearl beyond price." He hugged her, and she glowed. Even Arthur beamed, and shook Tom's hand.

"Better you be stuck with Pest now, Tom," he quipped. "I've had her on my hands for years. It's time some other bloke took responsibility for the wench." But he hugged his sister to show her that he was teasing, which she well knew, anyway.

The ceremony for the two aviators to receive the Order of the Tiger Cross went well. Sir John attended, with the Air Commodore, and both the palace guard and a platoon of the RAF Regiment turned out on parade. Speechs were given and the maharajah pinned the award on Arthur, then on Tom as the crowd cheered.

Howard returned to his base the next day, following a shoot that produced a bag of peafowl and two pheasant. He also shot a chital, or Axis deer, admiring the white-dappled hide, rather like the spots on very young deer in his home state. This species retained the spotted markings into adulthood.

He had unhappily said good bye to Caroline who had promised to notify her parents of her engegement, then flown back to duty.

The following week was hectic, with many ground support missions. Townsend took him and another pilot aside and told them about a Jap pilot who flew reconnaissance missions. His plane was a twin-engined Nick, and he flew so high and so fast that he was never caught. "I want you men to kill this guy. He's making fools of us," the colonel grated.

They studied the Jap's history, and realized that although his schedule varied, he was always over their zone by early afternoon on Thursdays. They waited above and caught the Nick, which they handily shot down. This feat earned them another half a kill each, and made both Col. Townsend and the troops who were being attacked on the basis of the enemy pilot's reports and aerial photos very glad.

Then, Tom's world was shaken. He was on his way to his Thunderbolt one day when a Jeep rushed up and the driver told him to abort his flight and report to Townsend in Operations, immediately.

Once there, Townsend looked at him oddly, then extended a hand in greeting and congratulated him.

"For what? You called me back before I could take off and shoot down any Japs," Howard noted.

"Read this: I got a copy, as your commander," said the colonel, passing him a set of documents. "Tom, I don't know how you do it, but you seem to lead a charmed life."

Howard read the papers, and was stunned at their content. The top sheet was a set of orders, addressing him.

"To Howard, Thomas A. O61632818. You are promoted to the rank of Lt. Colonel, effective 15 October, 1944. (Time in grade requirement is waived.) You are relieved of duty at your present station, and will proceed to a new assignment via best available means. This is a permanent transfer, and you will not return to your present station. Allowance is granted to move all of your personal effects at government expense, and you will accompany your belongings. "

"You will arrive in New Delhi, India on or about 18 October and will report to the American ambassador at the US embassy for temporary duty. This will consist of meeting and interacting with British officials, including the Viceroy of India. You will attend a ceremony at which Group Captain Challenger, Arthur J.G., Royal Air Force, will receive the Distinguished Service Order, and you will receive the same decoration. Authorization to accept this foreign decoration is hereby granted, in the interests of Anglo-American cooperation.

"Presentation will be by Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, Supreme Allied Commander, SE Asia, and the Viceroy of India will be present. You will coordinate any needs via the US Ambassador."

"On 19 October, you will attend a ceremony at the US Embassy, at which the Ambassador, on instruction of and on behalf of the President of the United States, will present to you the Congressional Medal of Honor. It is regretted that wartime exigencies and the President's commitments at this time preclude your proceeding to the White House for this award, but you will presently receive a letter from the President expressing his regret at the need for haste, due to your reassignment."

"After securing the earliest available transport, for which you will have high priority, you will proceed to London, England and report to the American Ambassador to the Court of St. James. You are assigned as the Assistant Air Attaché to the Embassy there, and will normally report to the Air Attaché. However, Lt. Gen. Doolittle has heard of your impending arrival, and it is the general's wish that you report to him soon after arrival to discuss certain matters relating to the P-47 fighter aircraft. You and the Air Attaché will also interface with Gen. Eisenhower, and will attend his staff meetings unless excused."

"This is a permanent change of station, and you will be assigned there until further notice. Notify your next of kin accordingly."

"Congratulations on your receipt of the nation's highest military honor. Your gallant actions reflect great credit on the United States Army and on its Air Corps, and Gen. Marshall has asked that this communication include his warmest wishes, also. A copy of the Citation For the Medal of Honor is attached, signed by Gen. Marshall and by the President. Godspeed and good fortune in your new duties.

Signed,

Warren T. Sherman.  
>Colonel,<br>Assistant to Gen. George C. Marshall,  
>Chief of Staff, United States Army,<br>The Pentagon

"Colonel, I'm speechless," said Tom. "What is this all about?"

"Read the Citation, Tom," Townsend replied. "That explains the Medal of Honor, although it has been approved rather quickly. Normally, these matters require review by several committees and it can be awhile before approval is granted. This was fast, but I and others sent in the nomination with the highest praise we could muster for your actions, and we included sworn statements by at least ten witnesses. I may wish that you wouldn't sneak off in the dark with visiting daughters of barons, but I have no complaint at all with your courage. I know that you're a hero, Mister, and I am proud to have served with you. Remember me now that you're famous. I guess you were already rich... As for the transfer and the special ceremonies, and your getting the Distinguished Service Order, from Lord Mountbatten, yet...I see the hand of Challenger or the Maharajah in that. Don't you?"

Tom thought, and admitted that this almost had to be the Maharajah of Rammalapur, using his influence with the Indian Government, the Raj. "He may have had me transferred to Britain so that I can marry Caroline and be near her," he reasoned. "He was pretty taken with her, and he admires her mother, whom he met years ago. He's made it clear that he likes me and is grateful that I saved his son. If there's anything more, maybe it will trickle out in time. Bill, I swear that I didn't know about this, and I did nothing to cause it. You've been a good commander, and I will, in fact, keep you in mind if I can ever help. Hey: where am I going to get a set of silver oak leaves? Have you got any left from before you pinned those eagles on your uniform?"

Townsend nodded, opened his desk drawer and took out a box with two sets of the silver leaf rank insignia. "There you, go, Colonel. And congratulations. You going to take me to lunch at the club and buy me a drink?" He grinned.

"Sure thing, Boss. Lets' go; I'm hungry, anyway." And they were off to eat.

That evening, having said goodbye to his men, including his ground crew, Tom finished packing. He left his last remaining bottle of Scotch with Sgt. Miles, with instructions to share it with the men who had maintained his fighter for the months that he had been at this base, and shook hands with Col. Townsend and the officers who had flown with him. Then, he spent a fitful night.

The following morning, he boarded an RAF Dakota piloted by Piet Marais and went to Ancestor base, where he partied for a day with his new friends. Then he, Arthur, Astrid, and Caroline boarded an express train for New Delhi.

CHAPTER TEN

Two PM, the courtyard of the Viceroy's Palace in New Delhi. Tom and Caroline stood watching as squadron after squadron of Bengal Lancers trotted past, the pennants flying from their spears adding to the colorful panoply of the scene. Already, other troops had paraded, including a company of Ghurkas, reminding Tom of those who had rescued him in Burma.

Then, trumpets blared and the bands played, "God Save the King" and all stood, reverently singing the national anthem, for George VI was not only King of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, etc, but Emperor of India.

Then, the time finally came for him to rise from his seat behind the lectern and approach Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, who, in the presence of the Viceroy himself and his family, pinned the Distinguished Service Order on his dress uniform, noting that this was a decoration second only to the Victoria Cross itself, and awarded only for acts of great heroism. Lord Louis, Supreme Allied Commander in Southeast Asia, read the Citation, and Tom registered the words about great sacrifice at the grave risk of his own life, saving the son of one of the most influential rulers in all of India, how no man hath greater love for his brother than he who will lay down his life for another, and how close Tom had come to dying, as he repeatedly attacked Japanese fighters with his own guns empty, etc. He recited how this was the second occasion in close order that Lt. Col. Howard had come to the defense of British forces at much risk, attacking vastly greater numbers of the enemy, with courage that is seldom seen.

Tom saluted, shook Lord Louis's hand, and returned to his seat, remembering to avoid tripping over the microphone cords. His award had followed Challenger's and he remembered Caroline's expression of pride as her brother accepted the D.S.O. The US ambassador, seated near him, rose and shook his hand. "Congratulations, Colonel. Your feat has made it easier for me to deal with certain of our esteemed allies."

After, there was a reception, at which Caroline loved looking at the other women's dresses and talking with the wives and daughters of many distinguished soldiers and diplomats, for from this palace, the whole of British India was ruled, the Viceroy being the local representative of the King-Emperor. She stayed near Tom, often taking his hand, noting with satisfaction (and a little glee) the looks that her stunning engagement ring drew.

The following day was more of the same, but at the American Embassy. Caroline heard "Ruffles and Flourishes", then, "The Star Spangled Banner", and realized with a mild shock that this would someday be her own national anthem, if she took U.S. citizenship to match her husband's nationality. Maybe I can maintain two citizenships, she hoped, for she was to the core not only the future Mrs. Tom Howard, but the daughter of Baron and Baroness Challenger...

The Ambassador called Tom forward and read over the microphone the Citation to the Medal of Honor. The Challengers listened attentively as the Ambassador recited the phrases, "For great intrepidy and at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty", and "repeatedly exposed himself to extreme danger by attacking vastly overwhelming enemy forces first with his guns loaded, then even when they were empty, he drove off attacks by Japanese fighters seeking to kill not only him and Royal Air Force companions, but the Crown Prince of Rammalapur, whose father is a staunch ally of the United States and of the Raj. This was the second occasion that week in which then-Major Howard distinguished himself in attacking against extremely heavy odds and his conduct reflects great credit on the United States, on its Army, and on its Air Corps. By direction of the President, and by the will of Congress, I present to you, Thomas Howard, the Medal of Honor. I remind you that our President has himself noted that he had rather have the Medal of Honor than be President. I can think of no greater honor in this world than the one that you are about to receive. Lt. Colonel Howard, the Medal of Honor." Then, he took the Medal from its case, held by an aide, and placed it around Tom's neck, the Medal hanging on its famous pale blue, star-studded ribbon, the only U.S. decoration worn around the neck, not being pinned to the uniform.

Tom returned the Ambassador's salute, thanked him, and returned to his seat on the dais, again avoiding tripping over cords. He noticed that Caroline was crying, and Arthur and others, including a Major General, rose and shook his hand. The general saluted him, and Tom felt humble and very grateful. He thought, For all of the rest of my life, I must strive to be worthy of wearing this Medal. I hope that I can set an example worthy of the honor that I have just been accorded...he felt like crying, himself, and envied Caroline women's ability to express themselves emotionally in public.

He sat, and she leaned over and kissed him, holding his hand. Tom Howard felt about as tall as the Empire State Building, and reminded himself that to whom much honor is given, much is expected.

The reception and state dinner that night went well, and Tom enjoyed talking with dignitaries and glamorous women, although he was careful to avoid showing too much interest in the latter, for his fiancée was with him. He noted the jealous looks he got from some men, and the way that many women looked at Caroline, and how some failed to keep envy from their faces as they admired her ring. I could get used to this, he thought and laughed internally.

Caroline saw his smile and asked the reason. "I'm just thinking that with all the respect these people are showing me, I should be able to get the cook here to make us some really good hamburgers for lunch tomorrow," he drawled.

"Oh, Tom, you are irrepressible!", she teased, and jabbed his ribs lightly with an elbow before she kissed his cheek. Group Captain Arthur Challenger, D.S.O., D.F.C. and Bar, etc. saw, and smiled. He had seen his mother do just that to his father so many times. He took Astrid van Rijn's arm and led her to the champagne, wondering if perhaps he shouldn't get married, himself. No, he thought, I'm too young to die. Still, the way that some couples support and enliven one another is a wonderful thing to see...I believe that Pest and Tom will be as happy as Mum and Father. It couldn't happen to two nicer people, even if Pest does throw paper wads at her distinguished brother in the First Class compartment on the best train in all of India...

Astrid lifted her glass, and said, "To the handsomest and bravest pilot in all of the Royal Air Force," and she beamed as she looked into his eyes. Arthur made a wry remark about how he'd drink to that fellow if she'd point him out, but he knew full well that she meant him, and he felt warm, stirred by her toast. Maybe there might be something to this marriage thing, after all, he mused, if a beauty like this one will keep paying me compliments like that. I might even lose my boyish modesty. He smiled and slid an arm around her waist, liking the way that her blue gown set off her eyes.

Caroline had been watching, and she murmured to Tom that perhaps they should have a double wedding with her brother. Tom, surprised, asked, "Is Arthur thinking of getting married?"

She smiled impishly. "Yes, but I don't think he knows yet."

That evening, as they lay in separate quarters at the US Embassy, Tom and Caroline thought of one another and of the future. Each treasured the brief moments that they had stolen away from the crowd, finding seclusion in a closed ballroom not in use. Caroline had gotten her knickers (and everything else on her!) felt of, and very effectively. She moaned now as she recalled Tom's touch, his roving hands exploring every part of her that he could reach, both afraid that the door might open and they would be discovered.

He recalled the aroma of her citrus-based perfume, which she told him had originally been invented by her father for her mother and her best friend, some jungle girl named Veronica, when they were marooned on a vast plateau in the trackless Brazilan wilderness. Baron Challenger had never licensed the manufacture of this particular fragrance, reserving it for his wife and daughter. (He reserved a lavendar scent for Caroline's godmother, "Aunt" Marguerite.) Knowing these bits of Challenger family history was important to Tom, who hoped very much to become part of their family, as Caroline would surely be accepted by his own.

Now, he drifted off to sleep, happy with having managed to enjoy a bottle of Chateau Latour with dinner. The Challengers and he had shared it, with the Ambassador's blessing, the statesman delighted that his guests of honor knew wine so well.

Caroline moved restlessly, wrestling with her pillow, which she had named Tom in a fantasy dimension known only to herself. Finally, she admitted her arousal, tasting his lips, feeling his hands as she recalled the time they had spent in that secluded ballroom...he had gotten his fingers down her top, and what he had done with her nipples probably had much to do with the flushed look on her face as they left to rejoin the party. A middle aged diplomat's wife had noticed her countenance and inquired if the Indian weather had gotten to her.

"Yes, ma'am, the heat did get to me for a bit, but I shall be fine now. I have just rested a bit, and am well, thank you." But she had laughed inside, and Arthur, seeing her, had lifted an eyebrow. He had heard the exchange, and suspected that what was more likely was that she had been in heat in a different sense. He decided to razz her about that if opportunity offered privacy later that night.

Now, Caroline, defeated in her attempt to fall asleep while embracing Tom the pillow, slipped off her white, lacy knickers and replayed the scene that she had previously created in her bed in the Maharajah's palace. Tonight, they were all that she wore, and she reflected that perhaps she shouldn't bother with them at night, as often as she had been removing them before allowing herself to sleep of late. Tom would be deeply amused when she told him, if she dared.

I think I do dare to tell him, she decided, when we're definitely alone. I feel safe in sharing almost anything with this wonderful man to whom I'm giving myself, and I love the idea of sharing secrets that neither of us would consider telling anyone else in this world. I hope: I know how many men brag to their mates about their conquests. I hope that he will consider our confidences above that. Yes, Tom will keep that secret, and it will be delicious to share. But, knowing him, he may want a pair of my knickers as a souvenir of that story! Good. They'll remind him of me, when we can't be together. And now...

She ran her fingers over her breasts, caressing gently, plucking at the nipples as Tom did when he wasn't just running his fingertips over them, lighting flames in her womb that even a fire brigade couldn't extinguish! She knelt, head low, the pillow now between her legs, grinding her pubes against it. I want him to take me like this, like animals! Oh, that man! What he does to me! I've watched beasts mate like this in nature, and now, I want become one of them, more than I ever realized that I would, and I've had some randy fantasies and some interesting make out sessions with a few men. But Tom... how he uses his lips and his hands! If only we get along in all other aspects of our lives as well as in this, I have DEFINITELY chosen the right husband. And, we do get along so very well, in all ways. I can't wait to tell Mum and Aunt Marguerite and my friends. Of course, they are going to get an edited version of this, but I will still let them know that our union may just top what Mum has teased about her own love, which she has called the romance of the century. If that is true, then mine must be the love of the whole bloody millennium! She clenched her thighs as orgasm came, and rolled onto her stomach, embracing the pillow, still arching her back and moving her loins against the cushioned cloth. Oh, Tom! How I want you tonight, and for every night to come! But I will absolutely not tell you just how much, for men are vain, and you will become insufferably so if you know the full extent of my lust. But I will tell you most of it, so that you can be the cockiest man to walk the Earth, which might just happen. You're pretty bold, as is, you fighter pilots. And you rev my engine even hotter than that on your beloved Thunderbolt.

Finally she slept, being surprised when a knock summoned her hours later. She replied that she would rise and prepare for breakfast, and thanked the servant at the door. As she fumbled her way clear of the covers, she saw her brief 21st Century style knickers still on the nightstand. I never wore those again after my little session with the pillow, did I? she mused. She walked over to her purse and put them inside, deciding to wear a different pair today. The ones from last night, Tom can have. He'll value them more than if I was a medieval lady, giving her knight a handkerchief to carry with her favor. She snickered at that thought as she walked toward the bathroom to begin her day.

Tom also rose at a knock, and readied himself. This was an important day, and they would be boarding a C-46 transport plane with their luggage and some dispatches for other air bases.

At breakfast, he conversed politely with the ambassador, his family, and a few staff members and two generals, Caroline seated demurely beside him. When no one seemed to be looking, their hands found their way into one another, even as Tom manipulated his fork amongst the real eggs on his plate. There was no ham, it having been explained to him that the cook this morning was Muslim. But he had a steak, thankful that the cook was not Hindu.

As their group left, Arthur and Astrid, who had spent the night at the Viceregal palace, drove up to take them to the airfield. Then, Arthur and his girlfriend would return to Ancestor base.

As they departed, servants carrying Tom's modest (and Caroline's larger) burden of luggage, the Ambassador's wife turned to her husband and asked whether he had noticed how much in love that young couple was. He concurred, saying that they had seemed much in tune.

As they departed, servants carrying Tom's modest (and Caroline's larger) burden of luggage, the Ambassador's wife turned to her husband and asked whether he had noticed how much in love that young couple was. He concurred, saying that they had seemed much in tune.

"I am actually pretty pleased that an American hero is marrying the daughter of Baron Challenger," he conceded. "This has helped smooth over some ruffles in my contacts with her people."

He went off to his office, and his daughter walked over to her mother. They discussed the departed engaged couple. "Did you see how they held hands under the table when they thought that we couldn't see, dear?" chuckled the mother.

"Yes, Mom, but I can top that," the daughter countered. "Remember when Mrs. Helmond said that Miss Challenger looked flushed in that hallway yesterday, the one leading to that empty ballroom? I don't think she was bothered by the heat at all. I think they sneaked off in there to be alone, not because of the heat! She was adjusting her dress and smoothing her hair like I've seen girls do when they've been doing things that are very naughty. And the new colonel looked pretty smug. You know how men are..."

"Well, Darling," remarked her mother, "you know what they say about what this climate does to women, and Tom is a handsome man, and a real hero. That old saw about the colonel's lady and Rosie O'Grady being sisters under the skin certainly seems to apply to THIS colonel's lady. But they're sweet, and I wish them the best." Then, both women laughed and returned to the table for another cup of coffee.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The big transport plane droned aloft, and before long, the couple were looking down on the Hindu Kush, the range of mountains that some have called the spine of the Earth.

Takeoff had been uneventful, except that they had "bumped" a couple of distinguished passengers who now had to wait for the next flight. But Tom's orders and a personal letter from the Ambassador, expressing the President's wishes, had done the trick, and he and Caroline had remained together.

They talked quietly now, marveling at the beauty below, until they could no longer distinguish snow from clouds. Then, they called a steward to bring a blanket and dozed as the plane drove on ahead of an incoming storm.

They refueled when and where possible, working their way across the East toward Europe, sometimes with a fighter escort when they were near remaining German bases. The trip took several days, but passed pleasantly, apart from a scare caused by unidentified aircraft over Italy that turned out to be Mustang IV's from the South African Air Force.

Eventually, they landed safely in London, and went to the embassy, where Tom checked in and introduced himself and his fiancée. The Air Attaché was out, but the Ambassador, alerted by his opposite number in New Delhi, welcomed them, and served tea in his office, with several of his staff present. It was arranged for Caroline to catch a train to Kent, calling ahead for a servant to meet her at the station. Allowed private access to a telephone, she talked to her mother and gushed, "Oh, Mum! Your books sold so very well, and Arthur is fine, thank goodness. I have pictures of him and us on a tiger hunt, and oh, by the way, I am engaged to an American pilot. You must meet him soon. He's just been transferred to London, so we can marry this fall."

Finn Challenger calmed her daughter and made her repeat what she'd said, going into detail about Tom and their whirlwind romance. Her heart raced as she recalled the way that she had fallen for her own husband, but she made the usual queries about was this wise, in view of their short acquaintance, asked about Tom's family, and other questions that mothers invariably have when told out of the blue that their offspring have gotten engaged.

"Shall I tell your father," asked Finn, "or were you planning to let him know yourself, preferably sometime fairly soon, and when he's sitting down?"

"Let's both tell him when I get home, Mum. I'm taking the afternoon train. You can meet me with the car. I've already talked to Mr. Cheatum and he knows that I'm coming." Cheatum was their chauffeur of twenty years, and a dependable man.

The Baroness agreed, her mind racing already to decide how best to break this news to her husband. At least, George will live to see his daughter marry, she reflected. That point should assuage his shock when he hears. She went off to be sure that Caroline's room was ready and to plan how best to tell her mate of this sudden betrothal.

At the embassy, the air attaché returned from lunch and arranged for Tom Howard to be billeted at a nearby private home. Then, he led the new arrival to his office and gave him a rundown of their duties.  
>Tom listened, but his mind kept returning to the point where he had seen Caroline off in a taxi. They had had a moment to themselves and she had pulled him into an alcove and pressed something soft and feminine feeling into his hand.<p>

"Keep those, "she purred," to remember me by. I figure that you won't forget me if you have this little memento. I just hope it won't be long before we're together again, and you're running your hands over another pair that I'm still wearing. It will give us something to look forward to until after the wedding, when goodness- knows- what will probably happen as soon as we're alone." And she blushed scarlet.

He looked, saw what his gift was, and hastily crammed them into a trousers pocket before someone came by. Five minutes later, she was gone and he was unable to concentrate on anything but her absence. I think I definitely have it bad for this woman, he admitted, as he tried to remember what his boss had just said about the latest reports from the front in Europe.

As the days went by, Tom met with his peers and superiors, gaining a firm idea of where the war stood. The Germans were in retreat, and there was talk of victory before Christmas. The enemy missile offensives begun in June continued, though, and he saw a number of the V-1 flying bombs strike their targets and heard more. The larger V-2 was silent, falling so fast after its engine quit that it hit its target without the characteristic "doodlebug" sound of the slower V-1.

Antiaircraft gun batteries along the coast shot down many of these terror weapons, and the faster fighters sometimes caught them and either shot them down or flew up and tipped them over, placing a wing under the stubby wings of a V-1, then rolling the aircraft.

Howard was curious about this, and obtained permission to attack them from his boss and from Gen. Doolittle, who approved of his desire to understand the V-1 better and to have a little adventure. Conventional enemy aircraft now were being encountered almost exclusively over the Reich, having been withdrawn to protect their homeland as the Allies pressed ever closer to the Rhine, capturing most airfields from which the Luftwaffe had operated in conquered countries.

Howard had cornered Doolittle in Eisenhower's headquarters after a staff briefing one afternoon, and they had found a table in a nearby restaurant, where they talked with the frankness and camaraderie of two men who wore the Medal of Honor. Doolittle had quizzed Howard about his time in India and Burma and about his feelings for the P-47 Thunderbolt.

"We are replacing those as fast as we can in this theater of war with the Mustang, which is a little faster, and which is far more fuel efficient," commented the general. "Hub Zemke is adamant that his 56th Fighter Group retain them, for their ruggedness, and as we fly more ground attack missions, that's important. But the bottom line is that the P-51 costs less to fly, it has ample armament with just six .50's, and it's more maneuverable. You'll appreciate that if you get in a dogfight with a Jerry fighter. You've flown Spitfires; you know what a pleasure it is to be able to turn on a dime. The Thunderbolt is a truck, and the Mustang and the Spit are sports cars. By the way, I don't think the P-38 Lightning will be with us for long after the war ends. It's a good machine. Hell, I flew one over the Normandy beaches, myself, mainly because the twin-boomed fuselage makes it so distinctive that I wasn't too worried about Allied troops shooting at me. But it's too hard for the average pilot to get the best out of it, and it still uses more gas and turns less well than the Mustang, although a really hot pilot using the latest versions can turn like mad. I talked with a guy who knows Maj. Dick Bong, our top ace. You've surely heard of Bong. He had 40 kills, all against Japs, and all from the P-38. He swore that he could turn inside a Zero when using his combat flaps, and the dive brakes cured the compression problem that we used to have in fast dives. But the P-38 is doomed. We'll probably standardize on the P-51 as a first-line fighter, and work like Hell to get the P-80 and other new jets up to perfection. The future lies with jets."

Plied with a drink or two, Doolittle humored Howard with the account of how he had led America's first retaliatory air raid on the Japanese homeland, flying B-25 bombers off of the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Hornet in April of 1942. This was a remarkable raid, earning Doolittle the Medal of Honor, and making him a legend in his own time

"The Navy guys were amazed that we could get those bombers on a carrier and operate off it, for that one takeoff," Doolittle mused. "We'd have done far better if the fleet hadn't been sighted by Jap fishing boats. We had to launch much further at sea than intended. Still, we hit our targets, and served notice that even Tokyo was no longer a safe place for those little bastards to be. Of course, now the B-29 fire raids have made our effort look like child's play, but I think that what we did will live forever in aviation history."

Howard agreed, saying that he had read Capt. Ted Lawson's account of the raid, "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo".

Doolittle looked thoughtful, and said, "You know, Lawson was pretty busted up when he had to crash land in China. I hope to hell that he recovers, more than he has. We wouldn't have had those crashes if the Japs hadn't seen us so far at sea. We just used up so much fuel that we meant to have to let us reach China..."

He went on to tell how he had largely saved the B-26 program, proving that the troubled bomber could be flown well even by junior pilots, if they were taught its unique characteristics.

"Now, we're having fewer losses of the B-26 than with any other bomber we have," he concluded. "Well, Colonel Howard, this has been fun, but I'd better get back to my office. Enjoy shooting down those V-1's, but don't request service over a combat area. We don't need to be putting any Medal of Honor winners at risk of falling into enemy hands. That's why Dick Bong was withdrawn from combat after his 40th kill. We couldn't afford the propaganda coup to the Japs if he was eventually shot down." He stood, shook hands, and was off.

Howard went back to his office and cleared up some paperwork, then went home to have dinner with the British family who were hosting him. Their teenaged son loved to hear his tales of fighter combat and the whole family had listened raptly as he described the palace of the Maharajah, the tiger hunt, and the Viceregal palace and the ceremonies there.

Caroline got up to London on weekends more often than not, and the couple enjoyed their time together, making excited plans for the wedding and hearing about one another's week. Then, the time came for Tom to request a few days off to meet his fiancée's family. He looked forward to it, but was anxious to make the best impression that he could.

Caroline told him about her arrival home, with her mother pumping her for details of the prospective groom, and what all they had done in India. Finn Challenger had quipped, "Well, Darling, at least you shot a tiger and sold some books. If this chap backs out of the marriage or your father simply won't have you marrying an American, at least, the trip wasn't in vain." She tried to keep a straight face as her daughter reacted to that comment. Then, both women laughed.

Baron Challenger had been less receptive to the union than his wife. The women had pried him from his study, where he had been writing a letter to Churchill about rocket propellant fuels, and the probable progress the Germans might make with their ballistic missile program before the war ended. He had been delighted to welcome Caroline home, but after the ladies told him that her adventures had involved getting engaged to a foreigner, he was aghast.

"Finn, this is serious." He signaled to a passing servant. "Jerome, I shall require a glass of whisky, straightaway. In fact, make it a brandy. I have just had some bad news."

"Oh, Genius, don't be this way," interjected his wife. She had taken to calling him, "Genius" while they had been stranded on the remote Amazonian Plateau, and it had remained her pet name for her man. These days, she usually just called him "George", but in moments of mirth or strong emotion, she reverted to "Genius" or the playful, "Lover" that had been her terms of endearment during the time when their union was young.

Finn told the servant to bring three brandies on a tray and some sandwiches and tea.

"I don't need a bloody sandwich," grumped the distinguished scientist. "I need a daughter who has the sense to marry English. What is the meaning of this, young lady?" And he looked sternly at his distaff offspring, normally the apple of his eye.

As the women spoke further, he was reduced to asking whether this American "flyboy" at least had some postwar prospects, and on learning that his family was well off, and that he owned land, Challenger gradually calmed somewhat. Told that his future son-in-law was also a hero, he grudgingly conceded that perhaps there was some light at the edges of this dark cloud, after all.

"I don't suppose that this damned Texan sounds like a cowboy?" he asked, hopefully. "We shall have to employ a voice coach if his twang is too pronounced. Can he at least shoot straight? He killed his own tiger, I trust, didn't have you or Arthur shoot it for him?"

Assured that Tom had faced both Japanese pilots and the fierce cats well, he grumbled that Japs were not like Germans -a worthy foe- and that even his wife had killed more tigers than he had himself.

"Well, Mum is a remarkable woman," reminded his daughter. "But it does take nerve to stand one's ground when a tiger charges. It scared the devil out of me, I promise you, and I'm a chip off the old blockette, not that you're really old yet, Mum!"

Her parents sat shocked, then Challenger joined his wife in laughter, and the ice was broken. The Baron consented to at least look at Caroline's photos of the trip, which Arthur had had his photo lab staff process during her visit. Finally, he rumbled, "Hmpf. He is a fine looking fellow. I suppose it may not be all bad. At least, he can pay to have you visit us regularly." This from a man worth over a billion pounds...whose wife was worth millions, in her own right, thanks to her book sales and her share of the treasure of Xochilenque. (That adventure was described in, "The Crystal Skull", a Fic no longer on the Net.)

Brandy and a roast beef sandwich spread with Dijon mustard calmed the Baron, and the Challengers planned an intimate reception for Tom, as soon as he could find time from his duties.

When they were alone again, the Challenger women sighed in relief that they had won this round of getting a new member of the family accepted. "Thanks so much, Mum," said Caroline, kissing her mother's cheek. Thank God you've always had Daddy wrapped around your little finger. I don't know what I should have done without you."

"I have your father wrapped around my finger?" replied the Baroness. "Caroline, it is you who have always been his favorite human. Well, Arthur, too, for he is the son and heir and they share the man thing. But you have always been able to get from your father things that even Arthur could not. He'd tell his son that a man has to learn to provide for himself, and make him earn whatever items he wanted. You have had only to smile and wiggle your nose, and he has fallen all over himself to please you. Never fear, he will in time accept Tom, if he is all that you say he is."

"Mum, I may have had fine luck with Daddy, but where do you suppose that I learned to wiggle my nose and butter his bread? I had a good teacher in dealing with him. He adores you. I've seen that silly pedestal that he made for you, and when he looks at you, I have never seen such an expression of love elsewhere. But I do so hope that he will come to care for Tom. He seems a wonderful man."

"Umm," conceded the Baroness. "Yes, I suppose that your father is rather fond of me. I wasn't joking when I told you that ours is the romance of the century. Oh, Darling, I'm just the luckiest woman in the world to have married George Challenger, and I hope that you will be as content with Tom. I say, he has got a reasonably long attention span, hasn't he? It wouldn't do for him to forget you before we even have him out here for your father to intimidate."

Caroline laughed. "He won't forget me; I made sure of that." And she told her mother about her little gift of lingerie. Both women howled, prompting the butler to look in and ask if all was well.

Then it was Thanksgiving, and such officers as could were allowed to take time off. The war was going well, and everyone half believed that Hitler would indeed capitulate by Christmas. Perhaps a sane man would, given his prospects and those of Germany, but sanity is not a trait which many people associate with Adolph Hitler. A couple of weeks down the road things would be very different, but for now, there was a relative lull in hostilities.

Howard took three days of leave, arrangements having been made for him to visit La Contente, the Challenger estate. Caroline came with a limousine, a Rolls-Royce. Tom Howard thought, Of course. Why not a Rolls if you have a billion pounds in the bank? But he was glad to see the inside of one again, which he seldom had, and he was vastly gladder to see his future bride.

Caroline met him at the home where he was staying, with the Barclay family. Charles Barclay was of the banking family, and did very well himself, but was slightly daunted at the prospect of hosting the daughter of a man with more wealth than some countries possess. Caroline had mentioned on the telephone that she would bring two friends, a couple of whom her father approved. "They're sort of chaperones, I expect," she admitted. "Daddy insisted. Mum laughed and said that she trusted me to handle things on my own, but that it's best to humor Daddy when he gets this way. After he meets you, he'll thaw. He's just grumpy about losing his only daughter to a foreigner. And you'll like my escort couple, if that's what they are, functionally, anyway. They're my godparents, by the way."

Now, with the car parked in back of the Barclay residence and the chauffeur shown to the kitchen for warmth and tea, Caroline entered the living room of the home with a distinguished couple with whom the Barclays seemed much impressed. Apparently, they were well known in Britain; although Tom hadn't heard of them, save for the frequent references in Finn Challenger's books.

Caroline hugged Tom at once, and then introduced Lord and Lady Roxton, John and Marguerite by name. "Lord Roxton is the XVIIIth Earl of Avebury," she declared, with some pride, "and the Roxtons are my parents' oldest friends. John, Marguerite, meet Lt. Col. Thomas Howard, M.H., D.S.O., D.F.C., etc. my fiancé, and Charles and Lillian Barclay, who own this lovely home where Tom lives in indolent luxury through their kindness in wartime. I think he quite likes the way that you feed him, Mrs. Barclay. Perhaps he won't want to leave when I try to marry him."

Everyone laughed politely, and Tom and his hosts shook hands with the Roxtons. Tom decided not to kiss Lady Roxton's hand, not being sure of the etiquette, but she didn't seem to expect it.

Mrs. Barclay had tea served, and Tom felt a trifle smug at seeing the servants bring it in. I almost hate for the war to end, he mused. He liked Rosita, his parents' Mexican maid, but the ceremony and luxury of being waited on by such well trained and deferential servants as he had seen in Britain would be among his fond memories of the nation. Trouble was, he also felt a bit presumptuous at having others wait on him outside of a restaurant...

With tea and conversation done, the party had the Rolls brought around and left for La Contente. On the way there, Tom got acquainted with the Roxtons, and soon discovered that they had Caroline's and Arthur's razor minds and sharp wit, Lady Roxton being almost caustic on occasion. But she was also funny, and Howard laughed with glee at some of her retorts. He guessed Roxton to be in his early sixties, his wife some ten years younger. They proved to be good companions, although he soon realized that their polite questions were also skilled probing of his personality and family background.

Caroline had made him wear the Medal of Honor, and put it on for him as the Roxtons and the Barclays, the children now present, watched. Lady Roxton announced that her husband had also won some "nice decoration" in the last war. "What is that called, John? The Victoria Cross, I believe." But her smug pride made it evident that she knew exactly what the decoration was called, and Tom, impressed, had told the Earl that he knew about that "little decoration", the British equivalent to what Caroline was hanging around his own neck. (Recipients of the Medal of Honor are allowed to use the initials MH after their names, but few do, in the USA. Caroline was proud of Tom and mentioned his award initials, after the British and Commonwealth manner, where the men who receive such high battle honors generally include them in their formal names, on stationery or when writing books or magazine articles.)

He had had to tell how he had won the Medal of Honor, which made for conversation as they rode, but Roxton, asked about the Cross, grimaced and said, "Perhaps later, when I know you better, Colonel. Some things are still painful to discuss. Sometimes I wish that my wife was more modest about that achievement. It would save me some pain in telling how I came by it. But I must say, you certainly seem to have merited the award that you wear. And I see our own Distinguished Service Order on your uniform?" So, he had had to tell about that, Caroline interrupting at times to increase the drama of the achievement, and mentioning that Tom had saved her brother's life.

"Well," said Lady Roxton dryly, "that's Arthur. Always finding something exciting to get into."

She and Caroline admired one another's dresses; Lady Roxton's being a deep red, probably maroon, thought Tom. She looked well in it, not having put on weight as many women did as they aged. The Earl was also trim, in fit condition for a man of his years, and obviously, both were still very agile mentally. Tom knew that they had gone on hunts and traveled generally until the war came, and they probably looked forward to more adventure when peace made going abroad safe again. They seemed that sort of couple.

"Now, listen, Tom," warned Caroline. "If Daddy is a bit gruff, don't let him get to you. He was just surprised that I'm getting married and that it was without much notice to the family. When he gets to know you, he is a fine man, and he will come to love you, I'm sure. He was grudgingly impressed when I told him about the tigers, and he admitted that a man who wears the Medal of Honor is at least worth meeting."

"Yes, there's that," quipped Marguerite Roxton. "It isn't every father-in-law who can brag to the neighbors that his daughter married a hero. Not to worry, Colonel, once he sees how you and Caroline interact, and realizes that the two of you are so fully in love, dare I say, besotted with one another, George will mellow."

"Oh, really, Marguerite," complained her husband, "Besotted?"

"Yes, John, besotted. It's as plain as the mustache under Hitler's nose. Caroline, Tom, forgive me. I have a sharp tongue. But I love seeing how real your love is. It reminds me of Caroline's parents, once they decided to admit that they were meant for one another. They scandalized that Treehouse in which we lived at the time. And all the while, I was racking my mind getting Roxton here to admit that he might possibly care for me. Thankfully, he made the right decision, so he hasn't had to settle for someone less, er, else. "

Roxton groaned and shook his head, but it was plain that he loved his sharp-tongued wife and they got on well. Tom decided that he liked this couple, and he smiled at Lady Roxton's droll wit. Finally, the Rolls turned down a wooded country road, and soon passed the columns and gatehouse of a large estate. It drew up in front of a Georgian home that looked like a palace to the American guest, and he braced himself to meet the Baron and his wife. At least, I've read her books, he thought with relief. If Finn Challenger was as smart and as adventurous as he thought, she would be much like Caroline. He could deal with that. He hoped...Whatever else the Baroness was, she was the mother of a bride, and probably keen to be certain that the union was a suitable one for her beloved child.

They went up to the door as a foursome, and the chauffeur brought Howard's suitcase and rifle, for Caroline had insisted that he bring the Winchester .375 Magnum that he'd been given by the Maharajah. He also wanted to be sure that the Barclay lad didn't try to play with it and nick or ding the handsome wooden stock, let alone load it and accidentally blow a hole in his parents' roof. The boy was 15, but had never been taught to handle firearms safely, whereas Tom at that age had been an experienced gun owner and hunter for several years.

A butler answered the door, and called to a uniformed maid, "Maria, please tell Madam that the guests have arrived. Good evening, Lord and Lady Roxton, Miss Caroline." He looked politely at Howard, and Caroline introduced him as all crowded in, for a gust of wind swirled a flurry of snow past the door, and Tom was pleased to smell the presence of a fireplace within.

The butler took their coats and went off to stash them wherever butlers in upscale English manor houses went to stash genteel visitors' outer garb.

Maria said something to Caroline in a language that Howard was almost able to follow, but it had sounds more like French in places than the Spanish which he spoke fluently. Caroline replied readily, naturally, and told the others that Maria would lead them to the den and her parents.

In that room, a stylish woman whom he recognized from photos in her books rose and steadied an older man as he stood. She wore an attractive, if slightly daring, dark green dress very like Caroline's, and the man was attired in a brown tweed suit that whispered of an excellent tailor. The couple looked briefly at one another. The woman winked, and the man rolled his eyes, and then smiled back. She took his arm and they came forward, the woman saying something to the maid in that odd tongue that Howard was trying to place. The man used a blackthorn walking stick, but didn't lean heavily on it, his wife's arm lending any assistance that he needed.

"Good evening, John, Marguerite, " the woman beamed."Caroline, is this your gentleman?"

"Yes, Mum," Caroline responded. "Mother, Father, may I present Lt. Col. Thomas Alan Howard, M.H., my fiancé? Tom, my parents, Baron and Baroness Challenger."

All shook hands, and Baroness Challenger showed the guests to chairs arranged near the fireplace, which had an ornate iron grate incorporating a coat of arms that he recognized as the Baron's. Tom noted from the corner of his eye that Baron Challenger pecked his daughter on the cheek, and she took his hand in hers and squeezed it before following Tom to her seat.

The Baroness saw that her husband was seated, and then offered a choice of sherry or whiskey to her guests. Lady Roxton opted for sherry, specifying a Pedro Domecq _oloroso _that the Challengers evidently kept on hand for her visits, and the men all took whiskey, with water or soda, according to their tastes. Tom saw that the Baroness also chose whiskey. He wasn't surprised, for it went with the image of the adventuress that he knew her to be from his reading from her own hand, as well as all else that he had gleaned of her in a visit to the library. But there was nothing at all masculine about her, except perhaps for the alert, very perceptive blue eyes. They were careful, watchful, and he sensed a hint of something totally feral in them. He shivered inwardly, knowing on some level that this woman would be a very dangerous enemy. Yet he also saw much of Caroline's playfulness and forthrightness there. It struck him that some of the same aura emanated from Lady Roxton, and he recalled how and where these couples had met. Clearly, civilization had not dulled their survival instincts, although they were also sophisticated, very female women. In fact, they were rather sensual, and he knew that his fiancée's genes were those of an acorn that had fallen close to the parent tree.

Baron Challenger was a large man, still powerful for his age, which Tom knew was 78. But his eyes were clear, if his hair was silver, and there were faint traces of color in a beard that was once reddish blond. He had placed his stick on a small table at his elbow, and one could see a crest that Tom knew must be his coat of arms embossed on the heavy silver head.

The Baron saw where Tom's interest lay, and rather gruffly said, "Colonel, I went many years before I needed to occasionally rely on that stick to get around. May you never need one, but if you do, get it before you wish that you had. I had a few bad stumbles before sense won over pride, and I let my wife convince me that I had better have some means of support before I fell and made a fool of myself."

"Genius, you have never made a fool of yourself," said his spouse. "We both know that you got the stick mainly so that I wouldn't worry, and it makes you look distinguished, anyway."

"Ha!" exclaimed Challenger. "You hear that, Colonel? Caroline? That, Sir, is the wisdom of a woman who knows how to make a marriage work! See how she spares my pride, even at my advanced age? That is love, combined with compassion and discretion, and a woman who has that combination and who still looks like Caroline's mother is a rare jewel, I promise you."

"George, really..." blushed the Baroness. "We should ask about Col. Howard and his family, and their time in India. Colonel, I understand that you met our old friend, the Maharajah of Rammalapur?"

And the conversation began, Tom being careful how he phrased things, and mentioning the Challengers' son and his gallantry along with all else from the time that he had met his bride to be. He was careful not to mention any visits to a secluded palace garden or a certain nocturnal Jeep ride down a jungle trail...

In time, Finn asked if Howard would like to see the gun and trophy room, He was eager for that treat, having wondered how to introduce the topic.

Finn unlocked the gun cabinet, set between two huge elephant tusks mounted in golden rings, and showed him the Mannlicher-Schoenauer carbine with which she had shot so many animals and a few people. She explained that a good markswoman could kill far larger animals with it than the chamois or deer it had been intended for. Roxton noted that he had once seen her knock a Xingu headhunter out of a tree at a distance of over 300 yards with this little rifle.

"Actually," interjected Lady Roxton," I saw that, and in my opinion, it wasn't an inch over 299 yards. But you know how a pretty woman affects male judgment, and you were quite the looker then, Finn. You've held up very well, and I must say, you do justice to that gown. Who made it?"

The ladies discussed fashion for a bit as Roxton and Challenger showed the rest of the guns and took Howard on a tour of the mounted animals. Finn saw where they were, and pointed out that her daughter had loved to roll on a black bear rug, and had been very fond of a leopard in full mount. "Remember, Caroline? You were so afraid of it at first, it looks so lifelike, but you overcame that, and used to hug it by the neck."

"Yes, Mum, well, now I have Tom to hug by the neck!" And she set her drink on a table and demonstrated how this was done, to Tom's embarrassment and delight.

"See, John," razzed Lady Roxton. "It's just as I said: these two are besotted with one another." She was grinning like a Cheshire cat as she spoke, though, and all knew that she was teasing.

Tom decided that this would be a good time to deflect the conversation before his future in-laws asked just how "besotted" they were and how far the romance had progressed. He motioned toward a human skull made of crystal, kept in a strong wooden display case, waist high, with thick glass panels to permit viewing it.

Ah," said Challenger. "Now, that is an item which my wife and I and some quite distinguished scientific peers of mine have examined in great detail. We have never been able to determine how it has internal prisms. Even modern technology cannot do that in a mass of pure quartz crystal, and this item probably dates back to the Toltec, perhaps further. We discovered it in a very remote part of Brazil, and much of what we did on the expedition involving it has never been told. I will say that the rumors that you may have seen in the press about our finding a substantial treasure there are true, but I will not elaborate on that until we have become better acquainted, as we do not discuss that much outside of the family. I hope that you will understand, at least when we know one another well enough for you to hear that tale."

"Brazil?" asked Tom. "Baroness, weren't you born there? Is the language in which you and Caroline speak to Maria Portuguese?"

"Very perceptive of you," admitted Finn. "Yes, I'm originally Brazilian. Genetically, I'm an Anglo, but not all Brazilians are of Latin or Indian descent. In fact, some of your Southern people settled in Brazil after your Civil War, and remain a distinct community. But my father was a mining engineer from America who married my also Anglo mother, who was born on a plateau where we lived then. There was a ...war...and I was orphaned at an early age. I'd rather not discuss my life until I met George and he took me in and let me love him and become his woman. Perhaps another time, when we are well acquainted, I will talk of my early life, but it is painful, and this is a happy occasion. In any event, I took British citizenship when I married. Maria was hired on a visit to Brazil just before the war, and she has been an excellent maid. She does have considerable English now, but I suppose that we are in the habit of conversing as we did when she spoke only her- and my- native tongue. George and the Roxtons and others do, of course, talk to her in English. She can understand most things you'd want to say to her."

She turned his attention to a mounted bongo, a prized African antelope, successfully hunted by only a few sportspersons living outside of its home range. This specimen had been collected in the cold, wet montane forests of the Aberdare Range in Kenya. At this point, the butler entered and announced that dinner was ready to serve.

"Oh, good," said Marguerite Roxton. "I was beginning to feel the effects of this sherry on an empty stomach. Why, if I wasn't careful, Roxton might ease me off into a dark room and do goodness-knows-what with me."

"Well, if I had, it would at least have ensured that you'd work up an appetite by the time we ate," rejoined her husband.

The Challengers looked at one another and rolled their eyes, smiling at the Roxtons' antics. Howard decided that the couples were very close, and that that each seemed to be accepting him as a future family member. But as funny as he found Lady Roxton to be, he was glad that dinner was at hand.

Caroline took him by the arm and they went off to the dining room, following the aroma of roast beef and what Tom thought smelled like carrots.

Tom had guessed correctly about the carrots, which pleased him, for he was rather proud of his olfactory skills. He had, as a boy, pretended to be Tarzan or a cave man and not only tried to smell better than most modern people did; he had even picked up objects in his toes, as Tarzan might do, having been raised by apes.

Besides the carrots, Brussels sprouts, and potatoes and beef, there were pheasants that had fallen to the Baroness's shotgun. Tom saw that the Baron chose fowl, and wondered if the elderly man could still chew red meat well.

Lady Roxton also opted for pheasant, as did Caroline. Hoping that it didn't make him seem a pig, Tom decided to have some of both meats, but Caroline anticipated him, suggesting just that. Gad, he thought, does she know me that well already?

Dinner went well, the wine being Chateau Margaux, which Finn explained was a particular favorite of Lady Roxton. "Thankfully, we laid down some cases of it before the war," she explained, and all agreed that it was a splendid compliment to the game and beef. A bottle of Chateau Latour was also uncorked, that being a favorite of Lord Roxton and the Baron.

The mood was congenial, with Tom feeling better accepted as they told more about themselves, and he coaxed the Challengers and the Roxtons to narrate their travels. Some of their tales were better than most fiction, and he was pleased to have met them.

As Roxton poured himself and Tom a second glass of the Latour, the butler came in and said to the Baron, "Sir, Findley telephoned from his home down the road that two intruders have entered the grounds and were seen walking around in the woods behind this house, looking at it. Shall I call out some of the other staff and demand to know their business? He said that one may be a woman, but couldn't be certain."

The Challengers looked at one another, and the Baroness turned to Roxton. "Johnny, lets' step into the gun room and I'll lend you a Colt and we'll handle this ourselves. Colonel, are you armed? Will you join us?"

Tom slipped a hand under his uniform jacket and produced his Beretta. "I attend some staff meetings between Gen. Eisenhower and his deputy supreme Allied commander in Europe, Air Chief Marshal Tedder. I know too much classified information to be walking around unarmed. But are these people really likely to be German spies? You have a lot of very valuable things here. Have you ever had a problem with burglars?"

Once, "she said. "We caught two a year ago and they're in gaol (jail). But we are somewhat exposed out here, and so many people know how much wealth is in this home that I am concerned. I don't fancy that these visitors, at this hour, simply ran out of petrol on the highway."

She led the way into the den, passing Roxton a Colt .45 automatic and a spare loaded magazine from the gun cabinet. She took out a Smith & Wesson .38 that looked like the one that Caroline had shot the king cobra with, handling it competently, loading it with precision and familiarity. Challenger protested that he should confront the strangers, but Finn said, "Please humor me, Genius, and stay with Caroline. She needs you to protect her. "

"Now see here," demanded Lady Roxton."Who's going to protect me?"

"Marguerite, stow it," retorted Finn. "It's more likely that someone will need to be protected from YOU! Look, do you have a gun on you?"

Marguerite reached into her purse and produced a small automatic. "I do have this Mauser .32 that for some reason I seem to have forgotten to put on my gun license. If I have to leave it somewhere, it can't be traced to me."

"Well, you and Caroline protect each other and Maria. Jerome, you have your Webley?"

The butler nodded, and Caroline walked in with her own .38. "I looked out a second story window, and saw them. They're back by the tool shed, watching the house. Daddy, lets' stay in here and Jerome can go to the back door and watch Mum and the men to see that all's well."

This was agreed on, Roxton also looking out front to see that no one was there. Then, they donned their coats and went forth to challenge the intruders. No guns showed, but all three had their hands on them in the overcoat pockets. Roxton and Tom also had flashlights, for dusk had come, and it was difficult to see into the shadows. Finn had exchanged her elegant high heels for Wellington boots.

They walked some hundred yards to the tool shed, saw footprints in the snow, but no one was there. They followed the tracks, saying nothing, each ready to draw their weapons and take cover in the woods if a shot rang out.

After a few moments, Finn held up a hand, and they paused to listen. Sure enough, the breeze carried the sound of approaching feet in the crusted snow.

"Hallo, there!" called Finn. "Who's there? You're on my land!" She tightened her grasp on the Smith & Wesson in her pocket and glanced at Roxton to signal him to shine his light at the approaching couple. They could see now that one person was in fact a woman, or certainly walked like one, and she shrank back toward the man as they heard Finn's demand.

"Well, it's my land, too, or will be one day!" came the fellow's response. "Don't shoot, Mum; we're friendlies!"

"Arthur?" Finn demanded. "What the devil are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in India? Come see who's here; it's Tom Howard, your future brother-in-law! Oh, baby, why and how are you here! Who is the young lady? Just look, Johnny, It's Arthur!" And she took her hand from her pocket and ran to her son, almost tripping on the rough ground.

Howard was struck dumb and exchanged a look with Roxton that said, be wary. But Roxton was also impressed and strode over and took Arthur Challenger by the hand, pumping it in joy at seeing his godson.

Howard walked carefully over until he could see that the voice was just as it seemed, Arthur's. "Astrid?" he asked, "Is that you? What's going on?"

"Yes, Tom it is being I. Or, maybe me. My English still isn't too perfect. But how wonderful to see you! Do you live here now?" She stepped over and hugged him briefly. "How are you, Tiger Slayer! Where have you got Caroline?"

Finn led the way to the door, the snow blowing harder now, and a chill wind trying to penetrate their clothes and freeze the marrow in their bones. Arthur was in winter RAF uniform, his ears exposed under his cap, and he shivered. Astrid van Rijn had come prepared, wearing a fur cap that hid her blonde tresses and protected her ears. Howard wondered where she had gotten it, and if she had even been in Europe before. Perhaps she had been born in the Dutch East Indies, and lived in tropical climates all of her life. He asked.

"Ja, I was born on Java, but I have been twice to The Netherlands, the last time when I was 16. It is very cold there, like here. I remembered, and bought the hat in Harrod's this morning. My God, this wind! It is an unholy thing! Perhaps it is in league with the Germans?" But she was laughing as she squeezed his hand. "Oh, Tom, it is so good to see you! I can't wait to greet Caroline! She has not grown tired of you?" And she laughed again.

Finn was asking questions with the rapid fire chatter of a Vickers gun with a full belt of ammunition, and Tom realized that he could keep his mouth shut, and Arthur would answer his mother, and everyone would hear everything they needed to learn.

They trooped in the door, the butler looking astonished. "Mr. Arthur! My word, Sir! We had no idea that you were coming. Baroness, shall I have Maria set two more places at the table?"

The newcomers hadn't eaten, and eagerly followed Finn into the dining room, she calling out to the rest of the family who were there. As one might suppose, there was a tearful- but -joyful reunion. Caroline ran shrieking into her brother's arms, and Challenger took him by the hand and hugged him as soon as Caroline made room. "My boy! My word! What on Earth?"

As soon as the tumult died and Maria had gone for added plates and silverware, Challenger looked curiously at the blonde woman beside his son. By this time, Astrid and Caroline were hugging and talking a blue streak.

Arthur called for order. "Father, Mother, may I present Astrid van Rijn, my fiancée? We got into London late last night, and tried to call before we drove out here this evening, but one of those Jerry rockets blew up a telephone exchange, and we couldn't get through. Sorry to startle everyone, but I wanted to show Astrid the land before we came up to the house. Glad you're eating; we're famished."

The baron looked at his son with mixed emotions. He was glad to see him, but what was this fiancée business? Were both his children to marry on short notice? And this girl and her name seemed Dutch! Another foreigner? He took his seat with strong misgiving.

"So, how are you here, Darling?" asked Finn. "Have you wiped out all of the Imperial Japanese Air Force, and taken time off for Christmas?" She teased, but Howard noted the expression of concern in her eyes.

"I'm on leave," Arthur explained, stroking his mustache. "We have come home to get married, and Pest, I wonder if you and Tom will consider a double wedding. Astrid thinks that would be romantic. I suppose that Tom and I can give one another the moral support to get through the ceremony. Weddings aren't the same for men, you know. They're rather unnerving for the male psyche, and I shall probably get cake all over my sword blade, and have the dickens of a time cleaning it off."

"Well, "quipped Lady Roxton, "just don't lick the blade clean in church. That's so crass, and the vicar might be shocked. We certainly can't have a picture of you doing that on the front page of the 'Times'."

Arthur joined the others in chuckling at Marguerite's barb, and then announced, "By the way, there is one other reason why I needed to come home. It seems that the King has been convinced that I have done an extraordinary job of commanding Ancestor base and dealing with the native rulers and avoiding agitators' revolts and the like, and saving India from being ravaged by that horde of Jap aircraft that Tom helped me to flummox. I am to be knighted next month, at Buckingham Palace. How is that for a Christmas gift from the Sovereign?"

All sat stunned for a moment, save for Arthur and his fiancee, who looked rather smug, she also looking at Arthur admiringly.

Then, oral bedlam came as everyone tried to question Arthur at once. When he had achieved silence, he told the story of how he had enlisted the aid of several native rulers, including the Maharajah of Rammalapur, in quashing anti-British activity among Indian independence agitators until the war ended. It had helped that he brought in some Burmese who had suffered under the Japanese occupation, to tell what atrocities they had endured and witnessed. All sat silent and grim-faced as he detailed some of what those people had related, until Roxton suggested that there might be better subjects for the dinner table.

"Darling, how clever of you to think of that!" exclaimed Finn to her son. "However did the idea occur to you? It must have made some things clear to those nasty agitators!"

"Well, Mum, I have a genius for a father. Why shouldn't some of that rub off on me? "Arthur responded."And my mother is probably a genius, too, even if it hasn't been officially acknowledged. You're certainly jolly clever, for a woman, at any rate." He grinned, knowing that every woman at the table, including Astrid, would bridle at that chauvinist thought.

"Christmas is coming," reminded Marguerite Roxton tartly. "If you want any presents from the distaff gentry present, you might want to concede that we ladies aren't totally mentally inept."

"It's all right, Arthur," said Finn, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "I'm your mother. I have to give you something under the tree. And Caroline better had, or I'll have a word with her AND with your godmother. My presumed brilliance is probably due to my having been taken in by your father and taught to read, among other things. Right, George?" she asked her spouse.

"Ahem," stammered the Baron. "Well, I think most here know full well that your mother survived on her own in a very hostile environment for 22 years before I was able to get my hands on her and civilize her, for the most part. She must have some considerable gray matter in that lovely head, or she wouldn't have learned from me so rapidly. Mind you, she was a diamond in the rough; I did need to polish her to bring out the full radiance of her capabilities. But you see how smoothly she just deflected your jibe by setting me up to defend her, so that she wouldn't have to? That implies definite mental activity, of a sort with which the female species is well endowed. Yes, Arthur, my boy, I'd say that your mother is quite clever, by any standard. She did have the brains to marry me, after all, when she might so easily have caught some other man who would probably not treasure her half so highly. Indeed, I cannot conceive of another man who would feel so blessed to have her at his side." Challenger looked pleased with himself, having managed to tease his wife while also complimenting her.

"By your side, yes, but also sitting on your lap, George," retorted Marguerite. "There was a time when I thought that girl had mistaken you for a chair."

"Ah, perhaps it is time for dessert," suggested Roxton, eager to defuse matters before they got too far out of hand, especially with Astrid present. And he knew that Arthur and Caroline, although aware that their parents had been much taken with one another, would be embarrassed to hear their affection joked about, especially with the Dutch girl and Tom Howard not knowing the family yet. Roxton suspected that his wife had had a bit too much wine, loosening her often sardonic tongue more than usual. What was one thing among the Roxtons and the Challengers alone and what it was tonight, with George and Finn's children and guests present was another.

Dessert summoned, Roxton asked Astrid about her family.

"Father was a coffee exporter," she explained, "and a magistrate, when the regular judge was away. When the Japs came, my family was herded into concentration camps, with most other Dutch. I was away at sea with friends when they came and we were fortunate enough to be picked up by a Royal Navy destroyer en route to Calcutta. From there, I made my way with other nurses to help the wounded in India, eventually arriving at Rammalapur, where I met Arthur at a dance at his officers' mess. I'm sure that I don't know why they call their club a 'mess'. It seemed quite neat and clean to me." She looked at Arthur to be sure that she had gotten the pun right in English. Chuckles from around the table told her that she had.

And so, the evening passed from dessert to brandy or port for the men as the ladies went into the drawing room to discuss things among themselves in that way best known to the fairer sex.

When it was time to retire, Caroline and Tom lingered in the den, taking advantage of her parents and the Roxtons talking to Arthur and Astrid in another room.

"Did your mom really sit on your dad's lap a lot, or was Marguerite just trying to tease them when she said that? Did you ever see your mom do that? Could you show me how they did it? We have a chair right here..." He grinned as she blushed.

She led him to a chair out of sight from the doorway, sat him down and showed him just how interesting it might be for a man to have a woman who loved him on his lap. From just sitting affectionately with her arm draped around his neck, then his waist, she raised her skirt and swiveled around to face him, straddling him, and grinding herself on his lap while kissing him intimately. Tom toyed with a strap on her garter belt, which he knew she'd call a "suspender belt", and ran his hand down her stockinged leg. She took in her breath sharply, then groaned softly into his ear as he lifted her skirt and began tracing his fingertips across her knickered bottom. He saw in a mirror that her panties/knickers and garter belt were black, the dress being a dark enough green and just thick enough to keep the underwear from showing through.

He nuzzled her neck and played with her hair, easing her body back enough to reach her breasts, which he tugged at lightly through the fabric of her gown. She wore no brassiere. Caroline made a throaty sound, and planted her lips on his again, writhing on his lap with the reckless abandon that he had roused in her loins.

"Oh, baby, I want you so bad that I'm about to go crazy, "Tom admitted, as he nibbled at her ear. "Don't tell me that this is what Marguerite saw your parents doing?"

She gasped, fumbled for words, and giggled. "No, Silly, Mum usually just perched on Father like I showed you before I started making a hussy of myself. But I've seen them do this a few times, too, when they thought that no one, least of all their children, could see. Father seemed to like it. Do you like it, Tom?" And she moved lasciviously, mischievously, against him.

"No, Honey, I love it!" Tom pulled her to him, and they continued to arouse one another until Arthur and Astrid walked suddenly into the den. Arthur cleared his throat, while Astrid stood, her hand to her mouth, until she began laughing.

Arthur picked up a chair and carried it over to the future Howards, who had sprung apart and stood on hearing the other couple arrive. He set it down meaningfully near the first chair, and said, "Astrid, have you got a tissue with which my lusty sister can wipe that lipstick off Tom's face before she walks to the mirror and tidies up before Mum and Father finish seeing the Roxtons off and walk in here? I think they'd better be in separate chairs while we sit on the couch talking to them when my parents arrive."

And so it was that the Baron and Baroness never knew what their daughter and her American fiancé had been up to moments before they came in to say good night.

The following day was the American Thanksgiving, and the cook had tried to put together a suitable meal, based on instructions from Caroline, who had pumped Tom and other American friends for details well ahead of the date. The Challengers recalled that their friend Ned Malone had made much of this November day when they'd lived on the Plateau so long ago, and Finn and her best friend Veronica had even begun planting sweet potatoes in their garden for him.

Caroline and her mother had made the rounds of their friends and found one who raised turkeys, and had bought two for the foreign feast. Green beans had been less of a challenge, and they even served iced tea, something that the Baron and Arthur looked at with suspicion. There were also suitable wines, for the Challengers kept a good cellar, having stocked it before the war. Given the circumstances, no German wine was offered, but those who wanted white got a fine Burgundy, Le Montrachet. The red was Chateau Beycheville, from St. Julien in the Medoc, that center of the finest Bordeaux wines. And, they had pumpkin pie, actually the fifth try by the cook before she got it "right" and made the official Thanksgiving pies.

Tom was delighted, and said so. The Challengers all beamed with pleasure, and Astrid asked to be told the story of the first Thanksgiving. When Tom had told it, she asked, "So, these settlers were still actually English at the time?"

"Ha!" exclaimed George Challenger. "Astrid, my girl, we shall make an Englishwoman of you yet. I see that my son has chosen his bride well!"

"Have some more pie, Genius, and quit trying to make Tom feel self-conscious about being from another country," admonished Finn. But it was true that Astrid had mentioned that she would take British citizenship on marriage to Arthur, not knowing if any of her own family would survive the war, or if they were even then alive. And she had no close kin still in Holland. Arthur's would be her only family, and Tom's heart went out to the pleasant blonde woman. He was very glad that she had found Arthur, who was her prince in the fairy tale sense as well as in real life.

After dinner, Finn and her children showed Tom and Astrid around the estate while George wrote a letter to an official at the Ministry of Defence about what they needed to do to develop the atomic bomb before the Americans or the Germans did. The visitors liked the grounds, and Astrid fell in love with a horse in the stables. She and Arthur rode as Finn, Caroline, and Tom shot pheasants for dinner. He found his future mother-in-law delightful and full of wry humor, although she probed him skillfully about his nature and feelings for her daughter, too. Caroline was almost beside herself when Finn finally announced that she felt that Caroline was making a wise choice and welcomed Tom to the family. Frankly, Tom was impressed, too, for he found Finn Challenger to be a wonderful, if slightly daunting, personality. He knew that her opinion would weigh heavily in gaining the Baron's acceptance of him. The three walked back to the house laughing, talking, and planning the wedding, at ease with one another and with the marriage. This place is beginning to feel almost like home, thought Tom, and he got Finn to take him into the den again after the guns were cleaned, and had her tell the story of how she or her husband or children had collected each animal there. Caroline loved this, often holding both his hand and her mother's, and showing great pride in a very large leopard that she had herself shot, at 15.

Tom had to return to London the next day, and left La Contente with regret. Little did he know that his wedding would be postponed by what lurked in Hitler's plans

All went well until just before dawn on the morning of Dec. 16, when Hitler began Operation _Wacht am Rhein_, the mad German chancellor's last desperate offensive, intended to split the American and British lines in the Ardennes Forest, and capture the vital road junction at St. Vith, then seize the port of Antwerp, effectively trapping hundreds of thousands of Allied troops and denying them resupply from the sea. In this Belgian battle, the largest ever fought by the U.S. Army, Hitler hoped to so disable the Allied effort in Belgium and along the relatively short European front that his foes would be forced to negotiate an end to the war.

To this purpose, he assembled the Fifth Panzer Army, the Sixth SS Panzer Army (incorporating the celebrated 1st SS Panzer Division, the _Leibstandarte Adolph Hitler_, and the 12th SS Panzer Division, the Hitler Jugend) and the Seventh Army in the south. The Fifth Army hit the American lines hard, striking soldiers who were half expecting that the war would end by Christmas. No one in the West thought that Germany had enough men or supplies left to conduct a major offensive, and the weather was awful. Yet, the tanks and their supporting infantry came, smashing into the U.S lines and targeting the vital town of St. Vith.

The Allies reeled in shock, and the Belgian town of Bastogne, defended by the lightly equipped 101st Airborne Division, the famed Screaming Eagles, was surrounded and besieged. Near panic ensued as teams of English-speaking Germans led by the notorious and brilliant SS commander Otto Skorzeny, infiltrated enemy lines in Allied uniforms and caused confusion and destruction. Skorzeny would soon be labeled the most dangerous man in Europe. He and his paratroopers were already renowned for rescuing the Italian dictator Mussolini, and now, he was a major thorn in the torn Allied front.

All staff officers were recalled to duty and the situation was so obviously desperate that the Howard-Challenger-van Rijn weddings had to be indefinitely postponed.

Tom was kept busy in both the Embassy and at Supreme Allied Headquarters, but Arthur was now also attached to headquarters, pending his postponed knighthood ceremony. He and Tom often managed to lunch together, getting to know one another better. Acquaintance developed respect and a genuine liking, as the two discovered mutual interests and retold their aerial exploits and other adventures over the years.

The dreadful weather was hampering Allied efforts by grounding their immense air power, and the Germans took full advantage of this. Gen. Patton was rumored to have ordered his chief chaplain to pray for clear weather. The colorful, profane general's reputation was such that most who heard the story at headquarters believed it.

Word came that the Germans had sent emissaries under a flag of truce to demand Brig. Gen. Anthony McAuliffe's surrender in battered Bastogne. The Reich's finest were initially baffled by his terse response, the immortal, "Nuts!", but his answer inspired cheers among Allied troops and became one of his nation's best known wartime quotations. The 101st held, earning a new battle streamer to their flags and enhancing their already formidable reputation as one of the foremost airborne forces in history.

Finally, the morning of Dec. 23 came, and Eisenhower was advised by his chief meteorologist that the weather should be clear enough for air operations. Units deprived of air support now got it, and fighters and bombers swarmed over the front, Thunderbolts and Typhoons especially tackling the prickly job of close-in strafing and bombing, sometimes right on the edges of their own troops' front lines. B-26's sought out and destroyed German formations and supply centers, and the tide began to turn in the Allies' favor.

Just after one in the afternoon of Dec. 28, Tom Howard returned from lunch in London to find his sergeant waiting eagerly to tell him that he had had a 'phone call from Eisenhower's aide, and was to return the call immediately. He did, and the aide asked if he knew where his future brother-in-law was. "Yes," he answered. "He's right here. The Group Captain and I have just had lunch, and are about to look at some maps before the boss gets here for a briefing. Why?"

"Well, Colonel, you and the Group Captain need to get over here right away. Ike wants to see you fellows _'toute suite' _and the tooter the sweeter. Savvy?"

A staff car took them directly to headquarters, and the duo were shown to a room where they were startled to find both Gen. Eisenhower and his deputy commander, Air Chief Marshal Tedder, awaiting them. Other officers hastily cleared the room, and Tedder shut the door. Eisenhower shook their hands and waved them to chairs at a table laden with maps and intelligence reports.

"Gentlemen," the Supreme Allied Commander began, "you know the general situation in the Ardennes and the surrounding area. We all do; much of it is even in the newspapers and on the radio. But we need some detailed aerial reconnaissance by pilots we personally know and trust, and we want one British pilot and one American. Politics! Gen. Patton and Gen. Montgomery are at it again, and I assume that you gentlemen know of their ...personal differences...that have at times impeded our ability to cooperate to the fullest extent.

"Gen. Montgomery has questioned the accuracy of some American aerial photos and some dispatches from the front. So, what we want you men to do is get aboard some fighters equipped with cameras and retake some photos, getting the latest situation on film. See this area?" And he pointed with his stick to an area on the map showing the northern edge of the Ardennes Forest.

"Now, I know that you have been ordered to avoid combat flying, Howard, but I am temporarily rescinding that order. I know you personally, and you have my full confidence. You're one of the few officers who'll give me straight answers, even when it's likely to upset me. You've been unusually thorough in your work before briefings, and you understand what I need to know. The Air Chief Marshal here assures me that you, Group Captain, are as accomplished a fighter pilot as the RAF can offer. Can you fly a Mustang?"

"Yes, Sir, I've a few hours in Mustangs, although many more in Spits," answered Arthur. "I feel confident in the Mustang, though, and it has much longer range. I see why you'd prefer that aspect for the mission that I think you're describing. Lt. Col. Howard also is adept in Mustangs, although he has more time in the Thunderbolt." He looked at his friend and future relative, and Tom Howard nodded.

"Give us a couple of P-51D's, or Mustang IV's if you want us in RAF planes, and we'll get your photos, Sir. I suggest that one of us take the pictures while the other watches his tail. But the camera plane needs its guns loaded, too. That won't interfere with the mission; the camera ports are back behind the cockpit."

"Very well, gentlemen," Eisenhower said. "This is what we specifically want you two to do." And he laid out his plans, Tedder interjecting a couple of times to clarify something or to point out added needs.

"You men take off tomorrow morning from RAF Biggin Hill," ordered Eisenhower. "We'll have the Mustangs waiting for you. Wear your own flight gear. If you need anything, tell me now, and we'll get it, highest priority. I want you back as soon as you can reasonably make it. Just get everything we need to see on film. Oh: Howard, Gen. Doolittle asked me to remind you that this is a photo mission, and that you are not to chase any Luftwaffe planes that you may see, and not to strafe any juicy targets like trains. He seems to think that a pilot of your personality might be tempted to get sidetracked. Those trains usually have flak cars on them, and we don't need you getting a plane full of German lead. I gather that the Group Captain also has a tendency to look for trouble. Mr. Challenger?"

"I understand, Sir," said Arthur. "I daresay that Gen. Doolittle knows us rather too well. The general is somewhat of a like mind. He's read our thoughts, and we haven't had a crack at Jerry for some time. But we'll be good lads and not shoot anyone we don't have to."

Eisenhower smiled. "I see your decorations, Challenger, and I know your reputation. I respect your martial ardor, but this is a time to get in and get out without getting any more involved than you have to. I realize, too, that you gentlemen are engaged and that your double wedding has had to be set aside for the moment. Do a good job on this, and I'll see if the Air Chief Marshal and I can spare you for awhile while you get hitched. Don't get killed doing this, by the way. I don't want your fiancées blaming me for it." He smiled. "Now, Howard, there is one other thing. It took a while, but the tale of your exploits this spring, when you were shot down over France and fought for three weeks until you got back to Britain has reached my ears. I've seen the request that you be awarded a suitable medal. I'm signing off on it, ordering that you receive the Distinguished Service Cross. You are one of the very few men in the history of the U. S. Army to receive both the Medal of Honor and the decoration ranking just beneath it, but I cannot justify not giving you the DSC. That was an impressive achievement. I want to pin the DSC on you before your wedding, so don't get shot down. You've done enough gallant things in this war. Am I understood?"

Tedder interrupted to tell the pilots to skip the afternoon briefing, so that they wouldn't be privy to the latest news at headquarters, on the off chance that either was captured.

"That's it, then, gentlemen. Be at Biggin Hill before dawn, and take off as soon as the light is good enough." Eisenhower rose, shook the future in-laws' hands and showed them to the door.

Challenger had left his flight gear in India, save for his revolver and boots, so he had to be outfitted before the mission. Tom signed out a car and driver and they went out to the base and got Arthur equipped. Then they drove to the officers' club for dinner and arranged temporary quarters, with a message to be wakened in ample time for their departure. They brandished a letter from the Supreme Commander and his Deputy, which opened all doors with alacrity, and were shown to the flight line to inspect the Mustangs as they arrived from wherever they had been requisitioned. The ferry pilots were cheerful men who shared some, "And, there I was..." tales with the others as the ground crews refueled the planes and checked the guns and the cameras. Both men had flown over the front the day before, and said that flak was intermittant, and enemy fighters were few. Sporadic small arms fire was a real danger at low altitude, though.

"I don't think we're gonna have many new aces in this war, y'all," drawled a pilot from Georgia. "I got 15 kills, myself, but don't know that I'll get many more, and these boys just arrivin'...they're gonna be lucky to shoot down any. The Luftwaffe just isn't sending up many planes against us except when we escort the bombers. And, that's a mixed blessing. You really gotta watch it, or some damned flak burst they aimed at a B-17 can blow your own butt to hell and beyond! I'd sure rather be flying fighters than be stuck in one of those B-17's or B-24's, with enemy planes and all that ack-ack comin' right at you. And those bombers have to hold tight formation, too, in their "boxes". It makes them vulnerable to flak, but they can interconnect their gunners' fields of fire, and rake the Luftwaffe fighters something awful. I'd hate to be one of those Kraut pilots attacking a bomber formation. But they shoot down a lot of our planes. Say, Colonel, aren't you that guy who won the Medal of Honor in Burma? I saw that in, "Stars and Stripes" and it was on the radio. Might I have your autograph, Sir, if that's an okay thing to ask?"

Howard took out his pen and a notebook and obliged both men and signed a few other autographs for their commander and a few of their friends. He felt foolish and like a Hollywood star. But it gave him the idea to catch Doolittle in a good mood and ask for HIS autograph. With luck, the general wouldn't think him too shallow, and would understand that he was a historical figure, and grant the autograph. Tom wanted to show that to his family someday.

After the mechanics and armorers announced that the planes were fit, the pilots trooped off to get some sleep. Tom had gotten his gear at the Barclays' earlier, telling the family that he wouldn't be home for a day or two. So, that was taken care of.

By six AM, they had eaten at the officers' mess and been driven out to their planes. They settled on a code word for their unit, Recon Green Flight. As senior officer, Challenger was Recon Green Leader.

Now, the ground crewmen pulled out the wheel chocks, and the men pressed their starters. The Rolls-Royce Merlin engines groaned, caught, and the four-bladed propellers began to turn. Exhaust fumes coughed out the pipes, and the Merlins' pitch rose to a roar. They slid the bubble canopies shut and radioed the tower for takeoff clearance, arranging their parachute-fitted bodies in the seats, buckling in, and getting the oxygen masks ready.

Clearance came, and the two P-51D's rolled forward and accelerated in tandem down the wide runway. The tail wheels lifted, and then the main wheels and they retracted their landing gear. They circled the field, took compass bearings for their target area, and were off, climbing to 16,000 feet.

They were over the Channel now, and made a few maneuvers to be sure how the planes handled. Tom liked the way the Mustang turned almost as well as a Spitfire, but rolled and dived even better. His previous reservations about the guns jamming on the earlier models had been rectified on the P-51D, and it had six guns to the P-51B's four. The bubble canopy gave a wide, clear view, and the response when he tried the stick was quick and eager. This lighter plane would officially go 437 miles per hour to the Thunderbolt's 425, which wouldn't hurt. That, and the maneuverability helped to compensate for the less rugged construction, and the Mustang was still a tough aircraft.

He and Challenger turned their eyes toward the coast as they approached Europe. Now, they could go well inland before German fire was a factor. Scant months before, just passing over the coast would have netted volumes of flak, the shells reaching up to destroy them, if possible.

Now, the Ardennes were ahead, and the cold snow and the trees hid friend and foe alike. Tom was glad that he wasn't an infantryman freezing on the ground below. This was the coldest winter in Europe in many years.

They decided that they were in the right area, found some landmarks, and Tom stayed high to offer cover as his friend went into a dive and rolled on his left side to activate his camera.

The run completed, Arthur rolled upright, and they went to the next objective. Again, they made the pass successfully, but on the third run, they saw German tanks below, and machinegun bullets rattled along his fuselage and flashed trails of tracers past his cockpit. He made his run and climbed, tracer tracking him as the Mustang rose in maximum climb.

Other runs produced waves from British or American troops, and Arthur rocked his wings in return.

Finally, Arthur activated his radio. "Recon Green Leader to Recon Green One. I have the snapshots, Tom. Let's head for home and see if that lot have got any tea hot for us."

"Recon Green One. Suits, pal. Come on up and let's do it."

As Arthur climbed, Tom swiveled his head, ever alert for enemy aircraft. So far, the only planes they had seen were ranks of RAF Typhoons waiting for a call from ground troops to attack German armor or roadblocks. A few Spitfires and Mustangs had swept by in the distance, and once they had swung wide of a box of B-26's en route to ruin a railway marshalling yard.

Now, Tom saw a line of specks coming up rapidly behind them, a finger-four formation that was clearly single-engine fighters. Something about the way they flew made Tom uneasy, and he watched them carefully, beginning to climb in case he needed altitude. He called out to Arthur, warning him of suspicious aircraft.  
>Arthur had a better view from below and caught the silhouettes as the planes came out of a cloud. He started and grabbed his microphone.<p>

"Recon Green One!" he shouted, "Drop your auxiliary tanks and prepare to attack. Bandits! Those are FW-190's!"

The Luftwaffe _Schwarm_ leader had identified the Mustang in front of him, but not seen Arthur slicing up from below. He turned his nose toward Tom, coolly preparing to attack. Oberleutnant Hans Richter was a veteran of two years of aerial combat, and a highly skilled fighter pilot. Due to recent losses, he was now Staffelkapitan of his squadron, and was flying today with another very experienced man and two new pilots who hoped to learn enough from their peers to stay alive until the war ended

Tom dropped his spare fuel tanks and rolled over and roared back into the teeth of his attackers. This startled them, and the four broke, scattering, one diving toward Arthur, who promptly lined him up in the gun sight and gave him a two-second squirt from his .50 caliber guns. The radial-engined Focke-Wulf flew right into a hail of lead, his engine bursting into flame as the canopy shattered and the pilot rocked spastically as the big bullets hammered into his head and chest. Arthur saw the other man's canopy burst, and swerved right, pulling his Mustang up tightly into a climb to help Tom as the dead German's plane flashed by 30 feet below him. The fighters swirled and roared about the sky, each pilot trying his best to avoid being killed while slaying the enemy. Tom found a Focke-Wulf hot on his tail, and half rolled into the tightest turn that the Mustang could manage, pressure snatching at his wings. The German spun out while trying to follow and Tom recovered to turn the tables, getting on the FW-190's tail and firing two short bursts to bring his guns on target. Then, when he saw the tracers smacking into the foe, he held the trigger down for a three second burst, the .50 caliber bullets thundering into the fuselage and right wing root of his target until it burst into flames and spun out of control, the pilot probably dead, the plane rotating downward in a spiral, trailing smoke down the sky as it became a fiery funeral pyre for the pilot.

Howard heard bullets pinging into his own left wing, and turned hard to port, the Staffelkapitan flashing past. He tried to outclimb the American, to make an Immelmann loop and regain the advantage. But he was too late, Arthur Challenger having closed the distance within firing range. The Group Captain pressed his trigger briefly, and the FW-190 shuddered briefly, the canopy flying off. The pilot rolled over, dropping free of the cockpit, and Arthur forced himself to hold his fire as the man escaped.

The lone remaining German pilot turned and ran for the Fatherland as fast as his engine would rev. He had just seen three of his fellows shot down within two minutes, and he had no desire to join them. The horror stories that he had heard of the nimble Mustang and its skilled pilots were true, and he wished desperately to avoid these two veterans who worked so well in tandem.

Howard saw the parachute open below and ran down alongside, staying far enough out so as not to collapse the canopy from his prop wash or the disturbance of his passage. He waggled his wings, shocking the German, who had been afraid that he would be shot up, swinging beneath his 'chute. Now, he grinned reluctantly and saluted the American as Howard turned off and climbed.

"Bloody showman. We should have shot that sod," grumbled Challenger. "He'll likely get into another plane and kill one of our mates tomorrow."

"Yes, but what a tale to tell our wives and the little nippers when they arrive: the day that Daddy didn't blow someone away and instead acted chivalrously."

"What little nippers?" demanded Challenger. "What have you been doing with my sister, Thomas, my lad?" But Tom heard his chuckle before Arthur released the microphone switch.

The Mustangs pulled up alongside one another and turned again for England. They saw no more aircraft on the way home save for a half- crippled Mosquito that had smoke trailing from the starboard engine. They fell in with it, accompanying it home, the pilot and his assistant waving their thanks for the armed escort.

Back on base, the film off to the lab, they apologized to the ferry pilots as all looked over the holes in their planes. Challenger and Howard narrated their escapades, each witnessing the other's kills.

The ground crews said that they could patch up the planes and the U.S. pilots said that their own men would finish the work more professionally.

The film was processed as they had a drink at the club after changing out of their flying clothes, and they were off to London in a staff car, to deliver the pictures to Eisenhower. Theirs had been a stimulating adventure!

On reaching London, both officers reported to the Supreme Commander's headquarters and were passed into his situation room, where both Ike and Tedder were conferring with Gen. Omar Bradley and Gen. Sir Harold Alexander. Eisenhower accepted the film, and thanked the pilots.

"I understand that you fellows managed to get into a dogfight in spite of my admonitions," Ike observed. "But you got back, and that's what counts. Congratulations on your new scores. How many does this make for each of you?"

"Sir," said Howard, "I believe that the Group Captain has 32 kills now. I got lucky during that session with the Japanese for which I received the Medal of Honor, and today's was my 28th. Arthur?"

"Yes, 32. But the war isn't over yet. Maybe I'll catch up to Johnny Johnson's score. Or, even St,John Pattle's, which is believed to be about 50-60 kills, although his squadron records were lost as our forces fled Greece. He was, alas, killed while covering the retreat. I think I have a better chance of seeing more combat than you, chum."

Howard pointed out that the top U.S. Navy fighter pilot, Commander David McCampbell, had 34 kills. "You should be able to top what a sailor can do, Arthur," he teased.

Eisenhower cleared his throat to restore order. "Well, look after yourselves. I'll try to arrange for you two to have some time off for the weddings as soon as possible. Check with your fiancées and let me know when you need it. That was some good work you did in getting these photos. Now, we have to finish up here, if you'll excuse us. Return to your normal duties for now." And Eisenhower took the film to the technician who would run it in the darkened briefing room after the pilots had gone.

The German offensive was gradually reversed and Tom and Arthur were able to find time to have dinner one night at La Contente, where their women were ecstatic about seeing them. Astrid had been staying with her future in-laws, at Baroness Challenger's invitation, and she and Caroline were getting well acquainted. She especially loved riding with the other ladies, and was charmed, if somewhat overwhelmed, as she learned what it would mean to become a Challenger bride.

The Baron was friendlier to Tom, having come to terms with Caroline's longing for the American. He loved his daughter, and had grudgingly conceded that Finn was right in pointing out that Caroline would move away whoever she married, and that she would still visit several times a year, about all that might be expected, unless she married someone local. And the only young man she had really liked in the area had died in the battle for North Africa.

The family sat with drinks after dinner, warmed with companionship, good food and the fireplace. They decided on Jan. 18 as the wedding date, and exchanged presents that they had been unable to give at Christmas, as the grooms -to- be were unable to get away from London then.

Caroline eventually excused herself, saying that she wanted to show Tom the library. That wasn't all that she showed him, and the couple were soon breathless.

"Baby, I've missed you so much that they'd have to create a new word to tell how much. Nothing in the thesaurus will do my emotions justice. I checked, I swear I did. Caroline, I was scared to death of commitment, but with you, I feel like we were meant to be, and just waiting all our lives for one another until we met." Tom held her close, and she ground her pelvis into his, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. For them, with the war on, she knew that there might not be! She had been proud of him and Arthur and their flight over Belgium, but was glad that she hadn't known until they were back that it had happened.

Now, they sat in one another's' arms, talking softly until Finn knocked tactfully on the door before pushing it open to inquire whether they had found any good books. It was obvious from her grin that she hadn't really thought they were doing much reading. Tom decided then and there that he liked his future mother-in-law much more than he had expected to.

On Jan. 12, the Challengers and the Roxtons drove into London to attend the ceremony when Eisenhower presented the Distinguished Service Cross to Tom Howard. The reception room at the embassy was full of dignitaries, and the media were excited to have the story of an American hero who had now received both of the top honors that his nation could present for gallantry in battle.

After the ceremony, in which he had also presented several medals to other recipients, Eisenhower came over and met the Challenger clan. He already knew Arthur, of course, and wanted to make the acquaintance of the family, aware that this would ease his constant burden of getting along with the British, some of whom resented the number of Americans whose help they had needed to suppress Hitler. The complaints of the ordinary man, that the Yanks were "overpaid, oversexed, and over here" were less a problem for him than the egos of the leaders with whom he had to interact, while keeping things on track to win the war. Montgomery wasn't the only prickly general with whom Ike had to contend, and it said much for the future President that he coped as well as he did. Being photographed with the famous Challenger family and Lord and Lady Roxton made him seem more acceptable to the British public and his military peers, and they were witty, charming people. The Barclays had also been invited to the ceremony, the parents, at least, and the general promised Astrid and Caroline that he would do all in his considerable power to see that their present wedding plans weren't disrupted. He thanked Lord Barclay for his efforts to raise funds for the war, and for his work with the rationing board, and excused himself. "I hate to run," he explained, "but the war won't wait."

The Barclays hosted the entourage in their home, where they had access to some things that it wouldn't do to be seen consuming in public, in times when rationing made life hard for most civilians.

Finn and Marguerite had contributed preserves and honey from their estates, and Tom was glad to get the honey, that being a culinary weakness of his. He managed to spirit Caroline away after lunch and they enjoyed an hour alone until the visitors had to return to their homes. Caroline had made him wear the Medal of Honor during dinner and she touched it and the D.S.C. gently as they parted. "I'm not as impressed with our D.S.O.," she announced, "Even my brother has one of those!" But Arthur took it well, just threatening to pull her hair if she didn't show more respect for the high award. And then, they were gone, traveling in two Rolls-Royces, with the family chauffeur taking Arthur to his quarters in the Barclays' Bentley.

Lady Barclay came to stand beside Tom as he watched the Challengers leave, and asked gently, "You love Caroline so very much, don't you, Tom? It shows, you know. Well, soon, she will be yours for all time, and I wish you two the best of everything. Charles and I are honored to have had you share our home, but I know that no home can compare to the one that you will make with that young lady." She was right of course, and Tom felt empty as he watched Caroline drive off.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Finally, the day came. Wedding! Tom was attended by a friend from the embassy, acting as his best man. Tom joked that he needed a "best man", for his nerves were such that he certainly wasn't at his own best. The best man, who was an OSS agent named John Bowen, posing as a cultural attaché, laughed and told him that most grooms probably felt that way. "I certainly did when I married three years ago," he confessed.

They got him ready; in "pink and greens" dress uniform, with his Sam Browne belt. He had never bought a U.S. sword, and wore his RAF sword, purchased when he had flown for Britain before American entry into the war. It was made by Wilkinson Sword, the best purveyor of such things, and was a prized possession. He had made Roxton, who was Arthur Challenger's best man, promise to have a cloth and water handy, and followed with an oily cloth to wipe down the blade after he had cut the cake. Arthur thought that this was "a capital idea" and told Roxton to be prepared to clean off two swords. The Victoria Cross recepient and multimillionaire nobleman had agreed, amused, yet impressed that these men loved and cared for their equipment.

Tom had shined his boots and belt to a gleam, polishing his brass insignia, too. He was, of course, expected to wear his decorations, and he was proud when he looked in the mirror to see the Medal of Honor on its starred blue ribbon, and the Distinguished Service Cross, the Distinguished Flying Cross, and his other American awards on one side of his breast and the white cross of the Distinguished Service Order of Great Britain on the other. The eagle on his cap shone, and he touched the silver pilot's wings on his coat with affection. "Here I go again," he mused, "Off into the wild blue yonder, but this time, the quarry is different. I hope that girl loves me as much as she seems to. I certainly feel incomplete without her, and that's a first for me. I guess that's love, not infatuation, but I'm pretty infatuated with her, too. I just hope that feeling lasts a lifetime."

Arthur came into the room they were using in the Challenger manor, and checked him out.

"You look presentable, Old Chap. You've even shaved. Caroline said to be sure that you had; she doesn't want to be kissed at the altar by some man whose beard scratches her." He chuckled, aware that Tom was invariably well turned out.

"Arthur," he replied, "the altar isn't where your sister needs to be careful of my beard. That's more likely to be a factor tomorrow morning when I wake her and see whether she wants to enjoy wild passion before breakfast."

Arthur cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. "Hmpf. Fair enough," he allowed. "Perhaps I shouldn't have raised that particular issue. I know the girl is besotted with you. Aunt Marguerite told me so. See here, Howard, I expect you to look after Caroline well. She and I razz one another rather a lot, but that woman is my sister, and I love her dearly. Do well by her, will you?" And he seemed sincerely concerned.

Tom reached out and touched Arthur on the shoulder and said that he would indeed look after Caroline, and that she meant the world to him. Roxton had come in and said now that he felt that he knew Tom well enough to know that Caroline was getting a man worthy of her, and that Arthur could trust Tom as he could few others.

"Hey, Arthur," jibed Tom, "I even look after you when enemy fighters try to clobber you, and your sister is a lot better looking than you are. Don't worry: I care very deeply for her. She's in good hands, or will be, as soon as that preacher or priest or whatever you call them officially announces that she's mine."

Arthur thought briefly, then nodded, and extended his right hand, which Tom shook. Both men smiled, satisfied that they understood the love that each had for the same woman, and that she was indeed going to be in good hands. "The sun rises and sets on Caroline," Tom declared.

"Ah, now that's not quite so," chuckled Roxton. "Her parents have preempted that honor. " And he told, with amusement, the tale of how the elder Challengers had had a running joke between them on that remote Plateau where they had met. George had told Finn that she was of "celestial importance", for the sun rose and set on her. She, in turn, had insisted that he had it backwards, and the sun's movements and radiance revolved around him. "It was very touching," Roxton laughed, "but the rest of us were relieved when the two of them finally decided that the sun shone on them as a couple, and that each of them activated its rays or whatever happens when the Sun rises and sets on someone. Arthur, have you heard that story before?"

The men made small talk for awhile, and the OSS man produced a bottle of excellent cognac and some snifter glasses. "You grooms feel like having some liquid courage?" he teased, and all four men took a snifter and raised their glasses in a toast. "To marriage. I hope." offered Arthur, and they drank

Caroline and her mother were putting the finishing touches on her gown and makeup when Astrid and her maid of honor, a girl from a neighboring home, came in. This maiden, Sienna Hampton-Reeves, had gotten to be good friends with the Dutch lass, and Sienna had made Astrid promise to toss her the bouquet after the wedding. "I could use some of that luck in snaring a man for myself," she observed. "I think I'm fairly decent looking and bright enough and I know how to make a man happy, but they're all off having their war, and the pickings here are slim. Maybe if I catch that bouquet and go into London with it..."

Caroline and Finn snorted and told her that with her looks, about which she had been modest, she could have her pick of men, bouquet or no bouquet.

The women looked one another over and Sienna produced a bucket with a bottle of chilled Moet & Chandon champagne in it and had a maid bring in some crystal flutes.

"Just one glass each, ladies," cautioned Finn. "I have an idea that we'll have our sobriety tested quite enough at the reception here after the ceremony. I don't want to embarrass my husband by having to lean on him to stay upright at our children's' wedding."

They giggled, and passed around their glasses, with Sienna making the rounds with the bottle.

"That gown looks lovely, Caroline," razzed Sienna. "But it has rather a lot of hooks. Are you sure that Tom will be able to figure out how to get it off of you?"

"Never you fear," Caroline shot back. "You know how innovative and technically skilled the Yanks are. Anyway, if Tom has any trouble, I'll help him. Oh, what that man does to me...Uh, sorry, Mum. I guess that wasn't awfully ladylike of me." She blushed, taking a sip of champagne to hide her embarrassment. The ladies tittered, and Finn shook her head, smiling. She remembered her own wedding, which was different in a sense, for she and her groom had already lived together for several years in a wilderness, and knew each other so intimately on all levels that they sometimes seemed to communicate by telepathy. But she had been nervous, all the more so because of the news stories about her having "lived in sin" and produced a child by her lover before they had even known that his prior wife was dead. Those memories still wounded her, for her love was no less pure or intense than that of a virgin, and was a lot more informed.

Astrid asked about this now, hesitantly, wondering if Finn had had bride's nerves on her wedding day. Finn saw that all were listening carefully, so she told the truth, saying that she had indeed been shy, because the ceremony was imposing, even if she had given her heart and her body to George Challenger long before she was allowed to be his legal wife. "I'm the only bride I've known who had to arrange for a babysitter before her wedding," she admitted, "for we had had Arthur on that Plateau. But everyone close to us was so kind, and George himself made sure that I knew that he treasured me more than ever and that helped so much. Your father is a wonderful man, Darling, not just a genius in the lab. He also knows how to make a woman feel really valued. When I met him, I was pretty torn up inside and had some bad dreams from the life I'd lived before I was rescued by him. He's made me so glad to know him and to just be alive, being who I became, that I want to dance whenever I think about him. I hope that Tom will have that effect on you."

Caroline nodded soberly. "He already does, Mum. When he looks at me, I feel like I was being lifted onto that pedestal thing that Daddy made for you. Look, Astrid doesn't know how hard it was to overcome public opinion and get Daddy's barony. Will you tell her? I love that story." And she looked pleadingly at Finn, who agreed to tell the tale.

The ladies gathered around, and Finn narrated how some moralists had railed against the idea of a barony when it had been proposed. For a time, it looked as if the offer would be withdrawn, and there had been some ugly letters to editors and a few malicious headlines, for the Challengers were notorious as well as famous. In the end, Winston Churchill, then out of office but a confidant of King Edward VIII and a friend of the Challengers and the Roxtons, who had supported him politically, had gone to the King. He had reminded His Majesty of the malice that some bore him for his love of the American divorcee, Wallis Simpson, and the King, his sympathy aroused, had made it clear that there would be no further speculation. He had created the first Baron Challenger within the week. Fortunately, when Edward had abdicated to marry the woman whom he loved, no resentment of the Challengers seemed to have carried over in the Royal Family when George VI had unexpectedly ascended the throne as his elder brother stepped down to become the Duke of Windsor.

"That is an astonishing and impressive story, Baroness," spoke Sienna. "I was very young then, but I recall hearing my parents talk about it. You and the Baron were somewhat notorious, true, but you were also widely admired, and many loved the two of you for your adventures, which your books and films made so real for us. And your union, if unorthodox, was so romantic! Much like that of Sir Samuel and Lady Baker! My mother adored you, and still does. But you must know that. She'd never have let Caroline and I become best friends if she hadn't respected you."

They heard the butler clear his throat from the bottom of the stairs beyond the room. "Ahem. Baroness, the car is ready."

"Right, ladies, "said Finn."Lose the glasses and cork that bottle. We're off to get my children married. And, Sienna, thank you for saying that. Your mother is one of my dearest friends, but it is good to know what you said." She brushed a tear from her eye and looked for her gloves and coat. Mother of the bride AND the groom, that's me, she thought.

The vicar stood at the front of the village church, secretly thrilled to be performing one of the most socially important weddings of the year. He adjusted the seam of his cassock, and turned to talk with parishioners who spoke with him as they filed into the cathedral. Many were lords, ladies, even an earl, for this region of Kent was the home of many of Britain's most desirable families.

Now, a member of the congregation asked why there were soldiers in red caps and white pistol belts suddenly in the parking lot. The vicar shrugged off the question, saying that the grooms were officers, and that the Military Police were doubtless there to watch the cars of the wealthy guests. Now, though, he was mystified by two men in dark suits who came to him and whispered things that caused the minister's eyebrows to shoot toward the vaulted roof of the church. Such things did not often happen in rural parishes, and this came as a surprise. He listened carefully to their instructions, answered a few questions, and waited to see what would come to pass.

The guests had nearly all been seated, when the door was held open for a couple that he recognized as the Prime Minister and Mrs. Churchill to enter, Mr. Churchill holding his famed bowler hat in hand. They stood just inside, obviously waiting for someone, then stepped forward and greeted...Her Royal Highness the Princess Elizabeth, the heiress to the Throne! Clementine Churchill and other ladies nearby curtsied, and the gentlemen bowed, awestruck at the presence of the Sovereign's daughter in this chapel! Princess Elizabeth spoke softly, with little affectation, and then led the way down to the reserved seating that had been set aside for the Royal party. The princess was escorted by a young naval officer, and had with her three ladies- in -waiting, her personal detective, and a secretary, as well as the Prime Minister's party.

People on all sides stared, whispered, and drank in the sight.

Now, the time for gawking passed the minister rose to speak. He addressed the assembly, commenting only briefly on the honor the presence of Her Royal Highness and the Prime Minister brought to the ceremony, then began a brief summary of the events to unfold, about the double wedding of Baron and Baroness Challenger's two children and a note of how much the presence of the Challenger family in his pews had meant to the church over the years.

Then, the grooms came forth, were welcomed, and their best men stood by them.

The rest was fairly routine, although very impressive, given the identities of the participants and the elegance of the gowns and the floral arrangements.

Tom Howard and Arthur Challenger got through it well, and then the audience sighed and gasped as the orchestra played the wedding march and the brides came down the aisle. Baron Challenger escorted his daughter, and a nobleman of the parish, Sir Garrick Malory, escorted Astrid van Rijn, whose last name was about to change.

The rest of the ordeal, as Tom thought of it, went well, and he and his friend and battle companion got through the responses to the vicar's, "And do you, Thomas Alan, and you, Arthur John George, take these women, Caroline Marguerite Nicole and Astrid Birgit, to be your lawfully wedded wives, to have and to hold, to cherish and to honor, and to cleave unto them only, throughout sickness and in health, throughout your natural lives?"

They did, the best men produced the rings, and the grooms dutifully slipped them onto the brides' fingers. The vicar droned on for a bit, the usual things that reverends say in the Protestant church on such occasions.

The time came to kiss the brides, and Tom looked into Caroline's eyes, and saw stars there. He felt ten feet tall, and knew a thrill beyond that of aerial combat or of seeing an immense buck on the opening day of deer season. And he felt an immense peace within his soul. This woman is the one for me, he realized, more fully than ever before. He lifted her veil, and smiled into her eyes before he tenderly kissed her lips. The audience sensed the deep devotion and tenderness and there was an audible sigh and whispers.

Beside them, Arthur and Astrid kissed, and she reached out and hugged her new husband. The realization that he was now married struck Arthur and he trembled within. Gad, dead so young, he muttered mentally. But then, he looked at Astrid, and thought, well, I died game, and look at what I got! If I had to marry, I chose well. He winked mischievously as he leaned to kiss her. She, startled, grinned back and enthusiastically received his lips, perhaps a little more vigorously than the vicar had been accustomed to seeing, for he looked mildly disapproving, had anyone bothered to notice his expression.

The wedding concluded, the brides and grooms left the church, walking beneath an arch of blades as officers at the entrance drew swords and raised them for the couples to pass beneath.

At the reception, they cut the cake. Lord Roxton smiled as he cleaned off the swords and returned them to their owners, the couples offering bites of the cakes to their new spouses.

Cameras flashed, and the couples posed for both private and press photographers, for not only was the wedding an event of marque, the grooms were highly decorated officers, one due shortly for knighthood. Tom was mildly surprised to see US newsmen, but recalled that as a Medal of Honor winner, he was news. The ceremony was international news also because the Challenger family was well known for George's inventions and for Finn's books. And the doings of billionaires and their offspring tended to attract notice...

The Princess Elizabeth and the Prime Minister and Mrs. Churchill shook hands, received fawning and adoration from the guests, and then announced that official duties called them elsewhere. But they first personally greeted the married couples and the Challenger family. Tom was very impressed to shake Her Royal Highness's hand and that of Winston Churchill, and a little awed that this wedding had attracted such distinguished guests. One of the Princess's ladies-in-waiting turned out to be a childhood friend of Caroline and Arthur and Tom was again struck by the prominence of the family into which he had just married. Oh, well, he reasoned, if you're going to do something, you may as well do it on a grand scale.

The honeymoons were abbreviated due to war needs, and the couples planned to take more leisurely ones after peace had come, if the men survived. And it looked as if they might be able to remain in desk jobs for the most part, although this rankled, given their martial spirits.

Arthur and Astrid went to Scotland; to an inn that Arthur knew that was located strategically to let them tour much of the historical areas.

Tom and Caroline chose a hotel in London for their first night together, and then went to a hotel in Surrey, hoping to avoid some of the worst winter weather in years. They warned Arthur and Astrid, but the other couple was firm about the Scottish journey, and Tom soon relented, not wishing to alienate his brother-in-law.

A car from the Challenger estate dropped them in London, and the concierge at the famous establishment of Claridge's greeted them effusively, for they had been in the news, and were recognized. The manager personally saw them to their suite, and ensured that they had a bottle of good champagne and any other creature comforts that his celebrated house could provide.

Left alone finally, Tom and his bride unpacked only as much as they might need during their stay, as they wanted to keep most of their things ready to grab and run if German bombs or rockets started a fire or caused the building to fall. The odds of a direct hit on this hotel were slim, but Tom was a survivor, and Caroline readily saw his case, having been in perilous situations before in wild countries.

He took the bottle from its iced bucket, pouring them each a glass, and they reveled at the taste of it, the tiny bubbles lending an effervescence to their companionship. They began to recover from the stress of the wedding, the snowy ride in from Kent, and of meeting the distinguished guests. Tom took off his sword, tie and shirt.

They sat on the bed, touching, talking quietly as it fully dawned on them that they were now man and wife.

She was shy initially, but his skilled probing of her lips with his own, and his wonderful hands sliding over her face, neck, back and hips aroused her passion, and he soon had her dress off. He told her to stand in front of him and remove the petticoats and the rest of anything that hindered his view. He untied his shoes and set them under a bedside chair and leaned back to watch her disrobe.

Caroline blushed scarlet. "And who do you think I am, Col. Howard," she demanded. "A striptease artiste from some club that you and your mates frequent?"

"No, baby, you have more class than those girls do, and I plan to be your only customer. I just want to see your beauty revealed to me, area by lovely area. You can do this, Caroline. You look even better than those strippers do, and you're a princess compared to them. Have confidence, Honey. I may applaud what I see, but I won't embarrass you or criticize your technique. I just want to watch as you show yourself to me completely, for the first time."

She complied, hamming it up a bit as she got into the act, humming a risqué song that she knew THOSE sort of girls danced to, and Tom's face broke out into a grin so wide that she was inspired and gave it her all. She knew that he was appreciating not only the view but her sense of humor and parody, and that seemed to make this performance a lark, rather than something sordid. Another deep sip of the champagne helped matters along, too. She recalled something that she had once heard Lord Roxton say, about champagne making girls want to dance and drop their pants. Apparently, he had known what he was talking about, for she realized a growing desire to relax and let nature take its course as she revealed herself. I'm not really going to drop my "pants", though, she resolved. I'm going to make Tom take them off me. For some reason, I've dreamed of that, wondered just how he will do it...

But when she had divested herself of her petticoats and stood in a bustier, she couldn't manipulate the multiple hooks, and he had to unfasten her, pulling her down onto his lap, and kissing her ears and neck as he flipped the hooks loose.

Ohmigosh, thought Caroline. I was joking when I told Sienna about how the Yanks handle tough engineering jobs. This man DOES know his way around getting a girl naked! Then, the bustier was off, and he tossed it aside, drawing his fingers across her engorged nipples, first on one side, then the other. She jumped as the effect hit her, and she recalled the sensations that he had unleashed when caressing her breasts in India, behind that Jeep in the jungle and in the Garden of Desire in the palace. What he had had limited access to then, though, was his to have and to hold fully tonight, and he took total advantage of it.

Caroline moaned and ran her fingers through his hair, feeling him unsnap her garter belt (suspender belt in her language). He undid each strap's clasp, easing the stockings off, careful of them, for good hose were rationed, and not easily replaceable in the wartime economy. Then, he slipped the garter belt free of her panties, and threw it on the chair.

She lay now on the bed, dressed only in lacy white knickers, moving to his touch as he lay beside her, reaching for her trigger points, toying with her, moving her hand away from the lamp switch when she tried to hide in darkness.

"No, Caroline," he murmured into her ear. "I want to see you. So lovely, so fine, so classic a beauty. Oh, Baby, you are what all women wish they could be, what men dream of, if they have taste and discernment. I want to look. "

And he stood, taking in the length of her body, having her place her hands behind her head, despite her protest, that he might see her from the top of her head to her toes. Tom sighed appreciatively. He lifted her crossed ankles and stripped her of the panties so quickly that she gasped. He folded the brief garment and put it on the nightstand. "I'm keeping these, doll. Souvenir of my first time with the wife of wives, the woman who stands above all other dames, the ultimate girl of the ages and of our time!

"You don't ever have to hide anything that beautiful, Caroline," he continued.. "I want to see it all, to marvel at your loveliness. You are so hot, Honey, I can't take my eyes off of you. Oh, more champagne? I forgot that bottle, and we have the glasses right there on the nightstand."

She smothered a giggle. Dom Perignon, at a time like this, when she was trembling for his continued touch? "Let's save it for later," she suggested. "We'll be more relaxed then, and I don't want to interrupt your present train of thought." She realized how that sounded, and she did giggle. Maybe I HAVE had enough "bubbly" for awhile, she mused, but I love the giddy effect that it and Tom are having on me!

Tom took her to him, plying her with his hands and lips until she felt that she would explode. Caroline took in her breath audibly, and Tom grinned, a leer of masculine pride on his face. He lowered his head to her loins and Caroline screamed softly, clutching him, playing with his hair as he aroused her to volcano eruption levels of heat and moistness. She lay open, feeling him as his hands warmed her, rousing her to heights of passion that she had only imagined! She whimpered, begging for penetration, which soon came.

Later, she would remember the lust that they had shared, recalling each motion each caress, each impassioned sigh and gasp.

After, spent, he had held her and told her how wonderful she had been, and how much he had enjoyed her willingness to try that which she had seen in those Indian love books in her parents' library. She sighed inwardly in relief, for she had been afraid that he might think her a whore to even know of such, although she knew that Sienna and a few of her other friends had seen similar things and discussed them with her, girlish laughter and speculation rampant as they wondered whether they would themselves do these things with a man. Well, she had, and there was more to come when they again coupled, for years to come. Good luck in doing as well, Sienna, she thought. I suspect that I have been very lucky in choosing a fellow with an open mind about this, and we will probably find ourselves much less bored in marriage than most. I feel such a slut, but wonderful for it!

Tom kissed her, mumbling how much he loved her. She finally managed to turn off the lamp, and pulled the covers over them. He held her and they slept. She ran her hand along his body, excited at what they had done, and wondering whether they would do this again before they rose in the morning. I hope so, she decided. My heart is strong; I can do that. She snickered as she stretched, totally at peace with herself and the world.

Then, she heard the rumble of a V-1 rocket passing overhead and the sound of an air raid siren in the distance. She stiffened, but Tom woke, pulled her into his arms and told her to sleep. "I'll protect you, Sweetheart," he assured her. "I take very good care of all my treasures."

She whimpered slightly, then got control of herself and smiled. "Am I one of your treasures, then, Fast Worker?"

"Baby, you are the ultimate female treasure of all time. I'm just the man lucky enough to have you as his own. I'm going to take even better care of you than I will of that rifle that the Maharajah gave me. And, yes, from me, that is a major compliment! Now, get some sleep. I plan to wear you out in the morning before we get up. You'll NEED breakfast after I'm done exploiting your amazing body!" He chuckled, and she smiled, happy now, and hoping that Hitler and Tojo would soon surrender and let the rest of the world get on with their lives and with their young marriages. If we get along in other ways as well as we do in bed, I really think that Mum may be wrong, and it may be my marriage that's the ultimate one instead of hers. Either way, it's nice to know that the ultimate marriage is a thing that one or another of the Challenger women have. It's good to have that in the family. She stretched again, snuggled next to Tom, and slept.

CHAPTER 13

Three weeks later, Tom and Arthur, their brides, and the Challengers and the Roxtons stood in a room at Buckingham Palace, talking quietly with the families of others who had been summoned here this day to receive the high honors of the Sovereign.

Tom wore the Medal of Honor, the Distinguished Service Cross, Distinguished Flying Cross, his Air Medals, and the British Distinguished Service Order, making him the most decorated hero in the room. Few men in history had achieved that combination of awards, and he was sought out and conversed with by many of those present, including two holders of the Victoria Cross, not counting Lord Roxton, whom he of course already knew.

He wore his best dress uniform, and had made a point of buying a correct sword, the Model of 1902 For All Officers, made by Wilkinson's, who made many foreign swords as well as the official British patterns. Caroline was resplendent in a charcoal dress that came just below the knee, and her coat was dark brown wool, with mink collar, for it was January still, and the weather was frigid.

Arthur also wore his newest uniform, and his shoes and sword scabbard gleamed with polish. The golden hilt of his sword, capped with a pommel shaped like an eagle's head, set him off well. His height, tall for a pilot, made him look all the more distinguished, and Astrid thought that he was wise to wear his mustache, which made most people take him more seriously than they might, given his youth. He was very young to be a Group Captain, and now...a knight! She wore a dark rose dress, and camel coat with golden mink trim, and could hardly believe her good fortune. From being a refugee from the Japanese so short a time ago and a working nurse, she was now the daughter-in-law of Baron Challenger and she reveled in standing near him and the Baroness, whom she had found to be a fine mother-in-law with a keen sense of humor. Finn had made her welcome in the family, perhaps remembering her own youth, when she, too, had been a refugee from troubled times, and so grateful to have become the companion of one of history's most talented scientists.

Finn smiled now, and reached for Astrid's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. She told the young Dutch girl that she looked splendid, and how proud she was of her son's wife. Astrid smiled back, feeling a sense of belonging that almost overwhelmed her. She looked at Arthur and nearly cried with joy as he playfully tugged at her hair and grinned.

Caroline Howard noted this interplay and looked to see if her husband was taking it in. He was, and leaned over and kissed her cheek, pulling her to his side.

Lord and Lady Roxton saw, and looked at one another and nodded. They had talked about the new couples and decided that all would be well, and that the spouses had chosen one another wisely. Lady Roxton had told her husband, though, that Caroline had confided in her "Aunt" Marguerite that perhaps she, Caroline, had the ultimate marriage, rather than her mother. She was joking, but Marguerite had pretended to bear a burden, having yet another Challenger woman tell her that her union was more perfect than her own, by inference. John Roxton, thinking the whole thing rather silly, had replied that perhaps their union wasn't perfect, but that they were perfect for one another. This answer had pleased Marguerite, who had told him how sweet that was, and then kissed him. Roxton thought that was the best possible outcome, and smiled smugly now as he recalled that exchange of a week ago.

Finally, an equerry entered and ushered everyone into a well appointed room, with a throne at one end. When all were seated, protocols being followed to ensure that those most senior were suitably honored, Arthur and three other men were left seated in red plush and gilt chairs,in a special section ahead of the others.

Soon, the hushed tones of, "Pomp and Circumstance" were heard from a band down the hall, then, the notes of, "God Save the King", and George VI, King of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Emperor of India, Defender of the Faith, etc. walked in, attended by his equerries and six Yeomen of the Guard. With them were bearers of the Sword of State and other official regalia and the awards to be presented.

Tom was a bit overwhelmed by all the ceremony, and watched raptly as the King was seated on the throne and an aide read the names and achievements of those being honored that day. Then, he called out the name of a general who had distinguished himself in North Africa and Italy, and that worthy came forward, knelt and heard His Majesty pronounce him a knight.

Arthur was next, and Tom noted that the King didn't use the large Sword of State in dubbing him, but a Royal Navy sword, that being the uniform in which the Sovereign was dressed for the occasion, with an ermine-collared purple robe over the uniform.

He listened for the magic words, "Rise, Sir Arthur", and felt as if he was watching a movie or was somehow involved in a fairy tale as he saw his friend and brother-in-law receive the King's blessing and warm handshake. This monarch was dearly beloved by his people, and had shown much courage in keeping the Royal Family in London during the war, despite the danger. He had visited areas bombed and talked with the common people. He and Queen Elizabeth were much admired.

Next came two men who had been chosen to receive the Victoria Cross, the highest award for military gallantry that their nation could bestow. One had been a captain in an armored unit in France, and Tom had read in the news about his daring deeds. He limped and used a cane, for he had yet to recover from wounds received during the action in which he had so distinguished himself that he had been singled out for this exceptional honor. The other was a Ghurka first lieutenant (Subadar) who had attacked a German pillbox in Italy, although seriously wounded. Using a revolver and his big khukri knife, he had killed 11 men and occupied the pillbox, turning its machinegun on the enemy, stopping the advance of a company-size force about to overrun his decimated platoon. He was on crutches, but presented a proud image of a fighting man. He had the admmiration of everyone in the room.

The awards given, His Majesty asked that the honorees join him briefly on a wide balcony, where he would wave to the crowd, and all would then view a parade in a courtyard below.

Tom and Caroline and the guests heard the roar of acclaim as the King appeared and waved to his subjects, and envied Arthur the vantage of standing next to the ruler as he surveyed the masses. That must be a heady experience!

In the courtyard, bands played, and the Household Cavalry trotted past, the silver helmets of the Life Guards and the Blues, their drawn swords and gleaming breastplates making an example of pageantry that Tom would never forget. Then came the Grenadier Guards, in their famous slow march that looked so dignified and stately. It being winter, they wore long grey coats over the red tunics, but the bearskin shakos lent the occasion the atmosphere it demanded, and the sight was wonderful to behold.

Finally, the Royal party withdrew into the palace and the King made a brief address, congratulating those whom he had presented with such distinctive honors, and apologizing for having to leave for other duties.

As he left the hall, someone began singing, and the whole room joined in:

"God Save our gracious King,  
>Long live our noble King,<br>Send him victorious,  
>Happy and glorious,<br>Long to reign o'er us,  
>God Save the King.<p>

The party gradually broke up, some lingering to talk with others, and Baron Challenger being greeted by several prominent officials among the scientific and political dignitaries present. Tom noted that they showed deference to Finn, also, she obviously being a great favorite among them. The Baroness took this well, and thoroughly charmed the men while avoiding alienating their ladies. (Finn was much younger than her remarkable husband, just in her 40's, trim and well preserved. She drew envious looks from several other women.) She even autographed a few books brought in by their owners, who might otherwise never meet the author.

In time, the Challenger party managed to leave, returning to La Contente in limousines from the estate. Tom joined them, having taken leave for the occasion. His boss had granted this readily, saying, "I may be dumb sometimes, Howard, but I am not dumb enough to tell a man who has been invited by King George that he can't attend a Royal function. Just try to smuggle me a drink and a piece of cake." He had actually been enthused about Tom attending the event, representing the United States.

That night, Tom and Caroline lay in bed in a guest room at her parents' home, and talked about the day and about their marriage to date. Tom joked that the whole day had been surreal to an American, and called Caroline his fairy tale princess. She blushed and smiled and said to keep that up and she would grant him a magic wish. He told her what he wished for, and she knelt in front of him, cheeks rosy as she administered what he had requested. She felt naughty, but delighted at the power she derived from this act that seemed to mean so much to men. They were really fairly simple creatures, she knew. Keep them happy, unnagged, and well fed, and with luck, they would make their women equally content. Caroline felt very content in her relationship with Tom, and couldn't wait to see his home in Texas and to meet his family.

Before long, he lifted her and they rolled in ecstasy for an hour, panting when passion had drained them. He told her that she was his portable planetarium, and she asked why.

"Because I see a whole galaxy of stars in your eyes in this dark room, Baby," he teased.

She kissed him and they embraced again, talking softly, and Caroline thought of how her mother had spoken so fondly of lying in her husband's arms, speaking like this of anything and everything, and how much that had always meant to her. "Marry a man whom you enjoy talking to, Caroline," Finn had admonished her several times over the years, and Caroline knew that she had taken her mother's advice well.

The secret to wedded bliss, then, seemed to be a combination of celestial sex, intimate, lively conversation, keeping stars in her eyes when she looked at Tom, and probably, going fishing with him. I think I can handle that, she thought and laughed. In fact, I can't wait to stand on a streamside with him and cast flies to trout or whatever fish they have in America. But I think I've already reeled in the biggest catch of my life, and he's a "keeper"! She nuzzled his ear, and swung a leg across him, snuggling against him.

She told him of her parents' onetime mock squabble over which of them the sun rose and set on, and said that this might be a problem for them, too, for she knew that it rose and set on Tom.

"No problem, Honey, "he answered. "In our marriage, I'll be the Sun and you be the Moon. Neither is complete without the other, like you and me. Now that I've got you, I wonder how I ever managed without you. Together, we're going to conquer the world, or that part of it that we'd want." Then, he held her and in time, they slept.

As she drifted off to sleep, Caroline thought back over the months since she had left to sell her mother's books in India. That seemed forever ago, and now she would live a whole new life. At least, I chose the right man to live it with, she reflected. I think this life is going to be very, very good.

CHAPTER 14:

EPILOGUE:

Autumn, 1946: Central Texas, the Howard ranch...

The dinosaur lay on its left side, they knew now, having excavated much of the upper portion of what had turned out to be a _Gorgosaurus_, a huge tyrannosaur. Nearby, workers were busy excavating the remains of a Trachodon, a Cretaceous era duckbilled dinosaur. Most were volunteers, with a few scientists from the Dallas Museum of Natural History.

Tom and Caroline Howard stood together, his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him, reaching quickly to smack his cheek with her lips.

"We have that duckbill almost done," Tom reflected happily. That _Gorgosaurus _is deeper and the encrustment is harder. He may take us another year to finish digging out, but it's fun. Want to grab lunch from the truck and go have a picnic?"

His wife nodded enthusiastically, and they excused themselves from the others and went to a secluded spot on a shaded hillside, for the September sun was still warm, and the leaves had yet to fall from the trees. Many were tropical -looking mesquite, anyway.

The land was beautiful, but had its dangers. Yesterday, Tom had drawn his Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum from its handcrafted Myres holster and blasted a Western Diamondback rattlesnake that had encroached too closely on their group. Watching for snakes had become second nature for Caroline, who had often been in similar circumstances in her travels. It just added a bit of spice for her, and she regarded venomous serpents as an ingredient of a life that was worth living. This land was fertile and beautiful, but was not unforgiving to the careless. She preferred that to a boring, sheltered existence.

Caroline unpacked the basket as Tom laid out a heavy red and white-checkered cloth on grass free of ants, another hazard of this place.  
>She extracted cheese, chicken and ham sandwiches, pickles, and a bottle of Chablis, the last ordered through a specialty merchant, for Texas in that day was yet to become a wine drinking state of any consequence.<p>

Tom opened the wine with the corkscrew on his folding German hunting knife, which offered that vital instrument, along with spear and saw blades. He had also made a point of buying a couple of Swiss Army knives when in Europe just after the war, having seen the one so treasured by his mother-in-law, who had used it on that remote Plateau where she had met the Baron. Hers had red plastic handle scales and some tools not on the knives that he had found. Finn had been somewhat evasive about just where she had gotten the knife, telling him that she wanted to wait awhile before discussing certain things about her early life with him. He had told her that he presumed that she had originated in Heaven, returning there to obtain her daughter. That would explain their looks and charm. Finn had blushed and smiled with great radiance, as had Caroline, who punched Tom lightly with her elbow, teasing him that her mother was, after all, a married woman, but to feel free to flirt all he wanted with the daughter. "I already do that," he protested, and both women had laughingly assured him that they had noticed. Still, he wondered about her. Being Brazilian (although genetically Anglo) wasn't what she was hiding. The world knew that: the love story of Baron and Baroness Challenger was legend. Someday, with her growing trust, his mother-in-law might reveal herself more fully. He had an idea that what she would say would prove very interesting.

"Penny for your thoughts? " offered Caroline, as he studied the beautiful grain of the stag antler handle scales of his knife before returning it to its pouch on his belt.

He told her, and she squeezed his hand. "Mum will tell you in time, I think, and even I don't know all that brought her and father together. They've promised to tell Arthur and me one day, and I'll make sure that you're included. I think they'd like that; they've grown very fond of you. I'm sure that the story will be remarkable, but Mum and Father are remarkable people. Now: chicken or ham?" And she passed him a glass of the chilled wine as she gestured to the sandwiches.

An hour later, they lay near a small stream, watching a turtle swim in the clear water. Fish darted back and forth, visible over the limestone bed. The breeze was cool and the shade pleasant. Tom played with her ear and ran his fingertips around her right nipple, the sensation just strong enough to be felt easily through her shirt and lace bra. Caroline took his hand and moved it the way that she wanted it to wander, then opened her shirt and inserted his fingers. That was indeed better, and his magic manipulations soon had her gasping and arching her back as she reached for his lips with hers. She snuggled closer and enjoyed the gentle caresses, her leg draped over his, her boots off, her toes tracing a path down his leg. Life was good.

They discussed the impending visit of her brother and his wife, the lovely Dutch girl who enchanted everyone who met her. It would be their second visit to Texas, and Tom looked forward to taking Arthur hunting, for both quail and deer would be in season by the time the Challengers arrived. Caroline and Astrid had planned a shopping trip to Austin, something that the distaff side of the family naturally regarded as essential. And Tom wanted to show the visitors the state capitol, the mightiest of their nation. Afterward, they would journey to Houston (more shopping) and to the nearby battlefield of San Jacinto, where the Texans had defeated a Mexican dictator to create their Republic that had eventually become this state. Britain, Tom had pointed out, was not the only land rich in its heritage.

"Want to watch stars tonight? See how many constellations we can find?" Tom asked. "None will be as bright or as lovely as those in your eyes, but I do enjoy looking at the sky."

Caroline snickered and told him that he didn't have to keep flattering her. She held up her left hand, the appropriate finger of which sported the magnificent ring provided by the Maharajah of Rammalapur. "I'm your wife, Tom. I'm what one of your pals called a 'sure thing'. If you want my jeans off, just say so, and crook your finger. I'm always putty in your skilled hands, anyway. But it is rather nice to hear all that blarney. Maybe you shouldn't stop using those lines, after all. It is wonderful to feel appreciated. But, yes, I would love to watch stars on the patio tonight. That's so soothing, so restful, yet an adventure of sorts. I used to do it as a child, and had half forgotten how wonderful it can be, especially with the right companion. That's you, buster: the right companion." She kissed him.

He held her face, hearing the breeze waft the branches of the tree, the croak of a frog in a pool just downstream, the drone of some insect, the trill of a mockingbird in the next tree. He looked deeply into her eyes. "Baby, I don't just say that stuff to get your pants off, although I know it probably helps. But I say it because it's true. I do see stars in those eyes, and when your heart beats under my hand, and you lie there looking like the inspiration for the finest sculptor in the world wanting to create the image of the most desirable woman of all time, I just want to tell you how magnificent you really are, how much you mean to me. I'm a published author now, and a pretty good wordsmith, but I feel wholly inadequate to express what you mean to me, how you fill my soul and my heart and my life. I see now why your father used to insist that the Sun rose on your mother. He must have felt the same way, and felt the same inadequacy in telling her what she meant to him. Still does, I imagine. You can almost see the energy flow between those two, even at his age, which I hope to achieve. Caroline, thank you for marrying me. All those 'lines' and flattery are flirting, sure, but I mean it, too. You have made my life Heaven on Earth, and I want you to know that I never take you for granted. I'm going to make you one of those pedestals like your Dad made for Finn. And I'll probably find some reason to set you on it, at least weekly. Probably not daily. I don't want you to get TOO accustomed to it. But you deserve to be up there on a pedestal a lot, and I want you to know it. I love you, Caroline Howard. Don't you ever forget that, for even a moment."

She had listened to this with amusement, then emotion overcame her, and she hugged him, trying to press herself into him, to become one with this man she adored. She mumbled how she never did forget his love, and then, words left her, and she could only sob with joy into his shoulder, repeating his name.

Finally, they parted slightly and lay kissing, embracing, staring into each others' eyes. The content of their gaze passed language, communicating itself on a more primal level, as each rejoiced in the arms and in the love of the other.

A car raced up the hillside, and a paleontologist leaped out and sprinted up the slope, brandishing a dinosaur tooth that proved the cause of death of the Trachodon was predator attack by a Tyrannosaurus. "I found it," he yelled.

"So have I, brother, and I'm never going to let it go," murmured Tom. His wife laughed, told him that he was, "impossible" and kissed him so thoroughly that the scientist stopped short of them, stared for a moment, and withdrew. There are some things that not even a live T-rex could take people's minds off, let alone a fossil tooth.

The stars that night were superb.

The End


End file.
